The Tin Man's War
by bryan0711
Summary: How many times can a time war be repeated? Tech Com, Skynet, and a third faction all believe they can win the battles of yesterday to win tomorrow... and with time travel becoming more dangerous and unpredictable, this is their last opportunity to win.
1. Chapter 1

AN: I have some author's notes at the bottom of the page.

* * *

**CHAPTER ONE**

||||||||||==Baja California, Mexico, (1 November 2008) ==||||||||||

Being John Connor meant one had to always be on alert, always watching. Even when sitting down, trying to eat tacos with a pretty girl, John Connor was assessing the situation; potential exits, potential enemies, who around him looked like to jump in on a fight, who had a concealed firearm? All these things John Connor worried about.

Eight hours ago John Connor had failed being John Connor.

Returning to the small, quiet Mexican town he and his mom had spent part of their life in had not been something John Connor would have done. If his uncle were with him all he would do is look at him, disappointment in his hazy green eyes piercing into the young man, and utter that this was something John _Baum_ would have done.

Right now John Connor would have given anything to have his uncle or his mom with him… he remembered his uncle didn't even call him John Baum anymore… the bitter disappointment his uncle viewed him as didn't even need to be said anymore.

_Being John Connor means a lot more than being lonely_, John thought as he pretended to sleep. _It means being a liar_, he concluded. He wasn't exactly sure what he was referring to when he told himself he was a 'liar', but he knew it involved someone he didn't much want to think about. Not right now, at least.

He dared himself to crack open his eyes just a little, just enough to see the prison guard talking with Riley, his eye lashes obscuring his vision. Struggling to keep his eyelid, in its unnatural half-open, half-closed state from going into spasm, he carefully watched the guard and begun to tense for his attack.

The smell of stale urine, caked in the corner of the cell forced him to wrinkle his nose, almost breaking the carefully crafted lie he and Riley had devised.

"This guy's a real… creep," he heard Riley say as she put her hands on the old and cracking cell bars. "He's been trying to put the moves on me all night," she said under her breath, pleading for the police officer to empathize with her.

John knew that was a lie. Right now, sitting in the jail cell with his eyes half closed, pretending to sleep, he knew he was in this situation because of one problem he wouldn't bring himself to admit he had.

"But you two came in together," John heard the Mexican guard respond in accented English. He then refocused back on the current situation. Any problem John had, he resolved he'd figure it out later.

Riley leaned in and whispered something else, and John had to smile. It was a mental smile, of course. He had to play like he was sleeping. His hearing was focused on the sound he wanted to hear… and there it was, a jingle of the keys and then a metal click of the key going in and the lock turning.

It was time to _be_ John Connor.

His felt his heart rate increase, the thumping in his chest accelerating as adrenaline surged through his body. His breaths were deep and he felt a serene calm wash over him. John's body began rising, his training and instincts taking over. He felt light, fast, precise. John Connor opened his eyes, the dark green orbs locked on his target and his body acted.

His hand shot out and formed into a claw around the leather sash the officer wore. One pump, two, then three pumps of his arm and the officer was smashed, head first, three times into the jail cell bars.

A splash of blood flew onto John's forehead as the guard collapsed, his eyes having rolled back in his head, the injured man was moaning, his breath rapid and shallow.

John Connor saw his girlfriend not even flinch at the violence and the savagery in which he had attacked the helpless officer; a man only doing his job, a man who had only been so close to the jail cell to help Riley. John had coached Riley into playing the man, using the empathy and compassion John had picked up on when they'd been locked in the grimy, disgusting cell, as a weapon against that man.

"Lo siento, Senor," he said, a wave of guilt washing over him like a wave. He knew that any apology would be inadequate. It made him feel something for the guard, it made him believe he had only acted because he had been _forced_ to act to protect himself and Riley. This was _his_ fault and his responsibility and he accepted that.

_What did Cameron say to me? Being John Connor means I care_? John snorted, feeling the puff of air on his lip.

He fumbled quickly for the guard's handcuffs and his head shot up, fear flashing across his face as he heard the _crack_ of gunshots. With the call from earlier he'd known his mom may have been in trouble… capture. Now everything fit; Cromartie was here. His head flicked towards a second set of gunshots, the cracks growing in intensity as Cromartie began his trek through the prison in his search for John Connor.

He heard a _clink_ and the handcuffs were secured to the guard and the prison cell. Now he needed to concentrate and get Riley out of here.

John wouldn't let anything happen to her. He cared about her.

"Riley… RILEY… listen to me. If you see daylight, you, you run. Understand? You run if you see daylight!" he yelled at her, grabbing her wrist. He ignored the guard pleading to be freed. Undeniable guilt washed over John as he left the man at the mercy of the killing machine stalking and killing its way through the Mexican police station.

He ran out and jumped over a guard slumped against a door frame, maybe dead, maybe alive. He wasn't sure. It was the same police officer who'd gotten Riley last night at the restaurant.

He saw a dark blur and then someone grabbed him. John spun around, his fists already starting to move.

"John, John, _JOHN_! I'm here to help!"

It was Ellison, former Special Agent James Ellison.

John didn't even bother to question him or stop running. He saw the man was scared, he flinched when he heard a series of gunshot, and John knew the former FBI man had no idea just what he was getting into. That didn't matter, not there, not now. John needed allies and Ellison was here to help.

Against his better judgment, against his fear he would bring death to another man today he nodded furiously, waving for Ellison to come with him.

"Let's go," John said, his voice sounding calm but his body anything but.

He and Ellison ran outside, his pupils constricted as he came into the hot, bright orange-yellow Mexican sun. His hands shot up to shield his eyes and the young man frantically searched for Riley.

He couldn't let anything happen to her… he couldn't find her. He pushed a fleeing man out his way, almost to run into a woman dressed in her Day of the Dead costume. John stumbled on a discarded skeleton someone had tossed to the side as dozens around him ran for their lives.

There, he saw her, running scared, her arms flailing by her side as she ran and staggered away at the same time.

"Riley!" He shouted. She couldn't hear him. There were still cracks of gunfire from the jail. He heard a _crack-crack_. The killer was close.

"Riley!" He yelled louder. He breathed out when he saw her slow down. She heard him. "Riley! Get in the card! Get in the car!" Somehow he had closed the distance to her and now he was yelling right in her ear and shoving her forward. He reached out and grabbed her by the waist and his large strides forced him to pull and drag her towards the convertible.

He jumped in after her into the passenger seat, his heart racing. He hadn't been this scared, not with Cromartie, since he shot at him at school in 1999; not even the pier attack had frightened him this much. But then he had had Cameron with him to protect him, even if he hadn't known it.

"Oh God!" He heard Riley scream, the piercing screech loud enough to shatter glass.

John didn't have time to comfort her; he had to stay focused on getting himself, Riley, and now an in-over-his-head FBI agent out of danger.

Ellison expertly shot the car in reverse as Cromartie came out of the police station, a nine mm Glock in one hand and in the other an MP5. Firearms akimbo he began firing bullet after bullet at John Connor, using his firearms as an expression of his murderous intent towards the young, frightened man

"Stay down!" Ellison yelled as he continued driving the car in reverse. The bumps and potholes in the dirt road kept jumping the car.

The terminator-precision aiming was thrown off as Cromartie began running forward, the terminator itself having to contend with the bumps and potholes of the road, throwing off its aiming. Bullets met for John or Ellison seemed to miss as if only due to divine intervention. Neither were meant to die this day.

The two heard the windshield splinter and Ellisons from shards of glass rain down and cut his bald cranium as he ducked, trying to bury his head as far as he could in his body. John bent and ducked under the dash, his left hand and arm holding Riley down.

John felt himself thrown into the side of the door as Ellison twisted and spun the wheel, trying to keep his attention split between the machine aiming to kill them all, and the buildings behind him. He felt a searing, thumping pain shoot through his ribs and up his back and around his shoulders from the impact.

The dirt and dust, being kicked up from the dry, hot road started getting in Ellison's eyes and into his lungs. Coughing, he spun the wheel and the car slid ninety degrees behind a building.

"Are you okay? Are you okay?!" John frantically yelled to Riley, who he had been cover in the back seat. He was half scrambling over the seat before she revealed herself. She nodded quickly. He could see the fear in her face. "Damnit, why did I bring you hear?" John asked himself under his breath as he turned back around.

Being John Connor meant you blamed yourself when others were put in danger.

_You bring danger into her life_, Cameron had told him less than twelve hours ago.

In that instant as glass rained down on him- shimmied loose from the windshield by the jumping car, dirt covering his face, and sweat mixing the dirt into a light mud and stinging his eyes, he understood why Future John was so lonely. There were less people to get killed if you never had anyone.

He jumped back into the front see and his eyes glazed over as he saw a shotgun laying on the floor, begging for him to take it and fight, do what John Connor did and fight. Ellison jammed the stick into drive, the gears whirring, and hit the gas. Unfortunately, they drove right pass Cromartie, who now shot up the side of the car. _Ping-ping-ping-_ping was all John could hear. He thanked God all Cromartie had was a pistol and MP5 and nothing heavier. He tried to use what he'd been taught; focus out the noises and the distractions around him and concentrate.

There was the horrendously bad music blaring from the radio, screams from townspeople, and Ellison saying something, and Riley still screaming, and his heart pounding so loud he could hear it in his ear.

"Hand me the shells!" He yelled to Riley when he saw her with a box. They were slugs, so they might slow down the homicidal robot chasing him. _Might_, he repeated… _maybe_... _not likely_, he corrected himself.

Riley began handing him shotgun shells when she yelped, jumping forward, spilling the box of slugs, and told him frantically there was something in the back seat.

"Stop the car, stop the car!" He yelled, pounding on the seat back excitedly. He grabbed onto Ellison's arm when the man kept ignoring. "I said stop the car!" he hissed.

John then looked back, extending his hand to Riley to grab hers and tell her everything would be alright. He didn't know what they'd find in the trunk… some person Cromartie had kidnapped? He was hoping that 'person' would be his mom, but he couldn't let himself hold onto false hope. John pushed that back, gripping the shotgun until his knuckles turned white and his hand ached. He had to be ready.

"Alright," the former special agent growled, his tone making it clear he thought this was a bad idea. Ellison shot John a contemptuous look, but the teen was concentrating on his girlfriend, completely ignoring the former agent now. He turned the wheel to a side street, which ended up being a dead-end. Then he slammed on the breaks.

John shoved open the passenger door, ignoring the dust clogging his lungs and starting to burn his eyes.

He cocked the shotgun, and hearing the click of a shotgun shell loaded into the chamber, pressed the gun in tight to his shoulder. He took a staggered breath and looked over his shoulder to make sure his girlfriend was safe.

Riley was standing behind him, fidgeting with her hands.

Ellison stood to the right side of the trunk, his finger on the release. John, taking command, nodded to Ellison to open the trunk.

The person who was in there, holding a torn Coke can as some crude, pathetic weapon, or a testament to this person's will to fight, blood gushing down their arm and wetting their shirt, surprised them all.

"Sarah Connor… James Ellison. I'm here to help," he said, reaching down.

* * *

_He rented the honeymoon suite_? Sarah asked herself, smirking, when she, John, Ellison, and Riley fell into the room, exhausted. Inspecting the room, it was a bit… dirty, and Sarah told herself that was being generous. Even with a killer robot down the road she had to give herself a moment to take in the ridiculous scene in front of her… the honeymoon suite?

She and Ellison went to one corner of the room, where the hot tub was (Sarah observed it was fairly grimy and dirty… not safe) and John and Riley were in the other room, separated by half a tattered curtain.

"It was following me… watching me," James Ellison said absently, like he was revealing a deep, hidden secret. He stared at his hands and breathed in and out slowly. Years with the FBI, the massacre of the HRT, and this was the closest he felt to death. The machine had spared his life, had professed to 'believe' in him, and hoped he could lead the death dealer to the Connors. "It was watching me…" he repeated again, quietly.

Sarah stood unabashed and focused in front of the FBI G-man, staring him down. The left side of her mouth flicked into a utterly condescending half-smile.

"And you thought it would be a good idea to come down here, to Mexico? What if you led him to John?"

James looked up, keeping the anger inside from boiling over. He'd come to help them. He didn't believe she could seriously ask that question, not after they found _her_ in the trunks of Cromartie's car. He had no idea what her motivations were for asking him that question, and if it were not for his FBI training, he would have obsessed over it and let her question distract him.

He snorted, too low for her to hear. He'd been out of practice for almost a year, but taking a moment he knew the tactic. He wasn't going to play.

"I wasn't the one in the trunk." He managed to say. It was short and to the point. He wanted to say more, his lungs and heart burnt to say more, but he didn't.

He couldn't believe the… pride of the woman standing in front of her, but he couldn't judge her. Her son had been shot at, she had been kidnapped. God taught forgiveness and silently he gave it to her. He'd tried to understand her for years now… and he saw how wrong he'd been about _everything_ concerning this woman.

Ellison looked at her. He didn't see a crazy domestic terrorist who had escaped Pescadaro mental hospital but a woman fighting against something which would make hardened warriors break down. And she'd done it while raising a son and protecting him and training him.

Ellison looked up, catching Sarah giving her soon a look. It was remarkable. It was love he saw in her eyes, love for her son and a devotion to do anything, _anything_ to protect him. He'd seen so much in his career as an FBI agent, but... he'd never seen this type of devotion. A mother who would sacrifice everything for him.

Everything she had said… that was the difference between man and machine, that was why she fought; he saw the love she had for her son.

Sarah had looked at her son, then quickly moved her eyes then her head back to face Ellison, knowing he was judging her. The Skynet hunter sneered and turned again, presenting her side to the FBI man who had hunted her. She turned and watched John as he explained what to do to Riley.

The way the sunlight was coming in from the windows gave her a silhouette as she faced the two teenagers; one the future leader of Mankind, the other a helpless young girl, a girl who said she didn't want to leave and run from John. Sarah almost, almost admired her dedication. But if it weren't for the ill-mannered, blond-haired foster kid, her son wouldn't be here now.

For a moment she hated the girl before feeling sorry for her.

Sarah had been looking over at the two young teenagers. Her son's life had been marked by loss and danger. And now he'd brought Riley in on it.

She would always love and protect her son no matter what, but she couldn't ignore his childish, selfish behavior over the last few months. He'd neglected his training shortly after returning from Presidio Alto, and the last time he'd been to the range shooting or out training with Derek and… Cameron… he hadn't even helped her track down the thieves who had broken into their house. He could have used his computer skills to help find them, but instead… Sarah stopped her introspection, branding it counter-productive and inane concerning the situation they were in.

Her son was alive. That was all that mattered for now.

They'd find a way past Cromartie. They'd finish him here.

Sarah's thoughts drifted back to Riley, who was holding John's hand, still begging him to allow her to stay and fight. The more she watched the girl, the angrier she became. She felt he arms, back, and legs tense… as the four took refuge in the honeymoon sweet she saw the two people responsible for them being here. Before she could yell she looked down, away from half the cause of her anger.

She kept her eyes glued on the dirty floorboards and steadily let her eye drift up and out through a crack in the window shade. She could see people still running, a pair of cars gunning away from the village. She heard Riley's weak, tired, _scared_ voice as she pleaded over something else… and Sarah gritted her teeth. Because of carelessness three young men were dead, boys… and she knew the fourth she had spared had been captured… killed by Cromartie.

Four deaths. Four needless, senseless deaths at the hands of killing machines. Sarah took a staggered, forced breath in through her nose and coughed. She quickly brought her hand up and wiped away the dirt and dust which was caked on her nostrils.

The Skynet hunter moved forward and extended her hand to the blinds and moved them away. She saw banners and skeletons… the _Day of the Dead_. It was fitting.

She did look on at John, and for a fleeting second a smile washed over his lips. She was proud of how he was handling the situation, handling Riley. He told her to head east, to the bus stop. Comartie, the it which had attack them, wouldn't follow her there. It wasn't what they did.

But as much as things stayed the same, the more they changed. The terminator was out there, hunting them. It was time they stopped running.

* * *

Riley Dawson, sixteen years old, blond haired, light green eyes, tunnel rat from the future, and whose favorite smoothie was peachy keen, stalked away from the Connors and the FBI man. She hadn't waited for Derek and Cameron to meet the three others in the honeymoon suite.

She didn't care now that the wind had kicked up, and that the blazing afternoon sun was beating down on her. She didn't really care that her blond hair was dirty with the orange-red dust of the town, or that her clothes smelled of… whatever it was gunpowder smelled like. Phosphorous, it smelled like phosphorous.

It's just, it didn't have the usual smell of death and garbage and human shit to accompany the smell like in the tunnels. That's why she didn't recognize it at first.

_I've been through worse_, she told herself. And she had. Living off rats and trash, having to do… horrible things for others, to others, just to get a meal. Or what passed for a meal in the future. Those unlucky enough to be stuck in the tunnels, a meal was either rats, bugs, and trash. Anything except eating the dead was acceptable. That was still taboo. It was desecration.

She put her hand in her pocket and fingered the cash. About $250, in small bills no less, and that was plenty to get her home. _I feel like a cheap hooker… he gives me cash to go away. Screw him_.

She bit down on her teeth and clenched her fist around the wrinkled wads of bills still in her pocket. She wanted to go back and curse at the Great General Connor for treating her like some cheap… he could just toss her aside… he didn't trust her with the truth.

He'd just explain to her that it was some crazy guy, maybe his dead dad got into some shady business, the guy was a hitman or something. Something crazy, ridiculous, and somewhat believable to the average girl… what some average blond bimbo would think is the truth.

An old van with a family speed by her on the road, bouncing and jumping as it hit potholes and bumps. She considered that they were probably running from the metal monster in town. She snorted at their race to flee. They couldn't even stop to help her.

She breathed in, letting the warm air bathe her lungs. Bad decision. The dust forced her into a coughing fit, which forced her to keel over and put her hands on her knees.

Two pairs of brown, worn leather cowboy boots were on the edge of her vision, which kicked up more dust and grime into her eyes. She blinked her eyes rapidly as they began to tear up and with a quick motion wiped her eyes and stood up, throwing her disheveled hair out of her face with a flick of her head.

In the future, one had a sixth sense about dying. It was a feeling one got in the gut… when it wasn't poisoning from radiation or chemicals. This was that feeling. This was that sense of impeding dread, unmistakable doom and assured death.

* * *

The T-888 cocked its head, looking into the sky. Its head shot back towards the earth when it heard a person yelp in fear and slide on the dirt, landing on their back. Its head cocked slightly to the left and a creepy smile snuck onto it face as it tried to assure the frightened woman it would not kill her.

She screamed and clawed her way backwards, disappearing behind an old, mango-painted building.

The machine concentrated, listening, watching for movement. It took half a dozen steps forwards and moved its head methodically from side to side, scanning. The damage from the bank vault and years in a junkyard had damaged the machine's most sophisticated sensors beyond self-repair, forcing it to rely only on sight and sound.

Its left eye twitched.

In the distance he saw a flicker of movement and zoomed in. Its left eye narrowed, closing slightly as the creepy smile formed on the left side of his lips. Quickly, the machine jogged towards its target.

The figure bent down and stepped in front of the young woman. Cromartie recognized her.

"You lied to me," its monotone voice declared.

Its hand shot out, grasping the weak, meaty throat of the human girl. It could feel the sweat, the chemicals of the human girl's excited body leaking through her pores. The machine could hear and feel the racing, pounding heart in the girl's chest. It tightened its grip until it was sure the girl could not escape.

"Riley Dawson," the man, the machine, who had tried to kill John maybe a mere thirty minutes before stated factually, evenly, like it had not already determined it would kill her. "Where is he?"

It knew the question was pointless, but the question demanded to be asked… refusal to answer a justification for its actions.

"I'll never help you," she sneered, narrowing her eyes defiantly. "I'll never help you get near him."

It lifted her slowly off the ground. Her hands shot at his forearms, her finger nails digging into the flesh, making him bleed. It felt nothing.

The machine smiled. With the sun beating down, the white from its perfect teeth glittered back at her. It was an evil smile. It was iconic. The smile was the same which was pasted mockingly on the skulls of the foot soldiers of Skynet. It was the smile of demons.

Cromartie brought her in closer and closer until it couldn't stand the dirty smell of the human, its sweat and odor forcing its olfactory receptors into overdrive. It wrinkled its nose unapologetic.

With a look of what would only be disgust the machine extended its arm, shooting Riley out, the girl screaming in pain. It tightened its grip even more until it felt the girl's heart rate and blood pressure spike from the pressure in which he squeezed her neck.

"We'll see," it sneered coldly.

* * *

The town was deserted. Even in the hands of a murderous machine from the future, Riley thought how appropriate it would be for some tumbleweed to come rolling down the street in front of her.

Riley saw, out of the corner of her hopeless eye, a few people looking on from their windows; frightened and afraid for their own lives. They didn't know the man stalking, hunting through the center of their village, a predator, a killer, was a machine from the future designed for the sole purpose of exterminating human life.

It didn't matter what the thing was. What mattered was its mission.

A half dozen bullet holes were carved diagonally into the side of a car in front of her, only one of the many marks of death she saw. The girl looked around, seeing the trash, the overturned carts, lost clothing, and a handful of dead bodies from Cromartie's rampage.

In this secluded enclave on the Baja California peninsula the police lay dead in their station, not that they could do anything, and the people hid in fear. The machine had destroyed the only telephone pole running into town and the poverty of the village meant few had cell phones.

No one would come. Not in time to make a difference at least.

Except for a few either too devoted or stubborn to leave their homes or too frightened and frozen to flee, the town, it was a ghost town. Fitting, for what day it was. _The Day of the Dead_. Riley didn't know how many police officers had died. She saw four, maybe five. And she didn't know how many others had died in the T-888's shooting spree.

Jesse had told her, after Derek had told Jesse, about Cromartie.

Riley's thoughts drifted to Jesse and how much she had just wanted to run away with her, to somewhere nice, somewhere where it would have just been Jesse and Riley, Riley and Jesse… but she was a 'soldier', conscripted into this war with the promise of _paradise_. The young girl knew she would soon be cast out of this paradise.

Feeling the cold, hard hands of the machine around the back of her neck she remembered how brave she'd been not so long ago in standing up to the machine and fooling it into leaving. She had felt proud… her 'spooky ninja' skills had saver her, saved John. Saved _him._

Now she was in the center of the dusty, deserted street, lined with abandoned cars, with Cromartie's hand on the back of her neck, pushing her forward. He had a pistol tucked into his pants, and an MP5K in his left hand, pointing at the sky.

Looking over at him, Riley didn't understand why the machine was squinting. It wasn't like sunlight affected their vision.

"You are very brave," it said to her. He stopped and tightened his grip on the back of her neck. Flexing, he brought her around to face him. "The polite response is 'thank you', Ms. Dawson."

"Go to hell," the defiant teenager from the future screeched.

She swore she saw the machine sneer at her before it resumed walking, pushing her along.

Looking ahead, pushing Riley forward the machine began explaining its observations to her.

"John Connor… is not so brave. He sends people to die for him. He sent you to die. He sent you to die while he runs away."

"He said you wouldn't… you wouldn't go after me…"

The machine halted and turned her around. A mockingly condescending look appeared on its face, asking Riley how she could believe that.

Riley didn't answer.

"He's good at that, you understand? Sending others to die" The machine observed. "You would lead me to him. He sent you to distract me while he hides."

The machine considered if the human girl would understand he was lying to her. Skynet had downloaded extensive psychological files relating to John Connor to the T-888 known as 'Cromartie'. However, this John Connor had contradicted the conclusions of 2027 Skynet on how the young general would behave.

The machine stopped again and again made Riley face him. A look of disgust washed over his face before returning back to its blank, expressionless, default stare. Any sort of life… bastardization of life, Riley saw in that momentary flash from the machine's face were gone now.

It cocked its head left, then right. "There is something about you Ms. Dawson. I know now he was in the house when I came. The pictures in the house were not of you- you were not taking them. You were protecting him."

The machine stopped in its tracks. Riley stared at it in disbelief, as if it had frozen.

"Yeah? So?" She hissed through her teeth at him. The it. Her tone dared him to answer.

"You're not afraid." He declared with a vicious smile. He looked her over slowly, very slowly. "You're different." He tightened his grip on the back of her neck. Any more pressure and he'd break the vertebrae. "Your behavior is irrational. I went to your home before I came here. You have foster parents. I accessed the LA County school system servers… you're file lists two parents as deceased but your family records ended there- there was no record of your parents ever having existed. No Social Security number, no IRS receipts, no voter registration or DMV records." The man brought her up to his face. "You're not who you say you are."

The machine holding Riley struggled to smile at her, the young girl watching on, disgusting at the machine's actions.

Cromartie flashed his eyes. She stared at him, unblinking, the wind nipping at her drying orbs.

"You are from the future."

She didn't respond. But she saw a smile on the machine's face, a glare of pride in its otherwise dark, glassy, lifeless eyes.

Again, it cocked its head. "You are from the future," it stated. It was a fact now.

Riley closed her eyes. Jesse had told her this would be paradise but this wasn't paradise. It was another bitter disappointment in a life marked with horror and punctuated by death.

The sun glittered on its white teeth again, and it smiled that evil smirk at her.

The wind blew through Riley's dirty and matted hair and she could feel the hot breath of the terminator on her face.

"It's doubtful John Connor knows of your origins. Let's see if John Connor comes to rescue you."

It sounded like it was almost taking… enjoyment out of taunting Riley like this. She knew it could have just killed her and mimicked her voice. Why was it doing this?

They walked through town. Like the outskirts, it was deserted. She and the machine saw James Ellison, and she wanted to scream. But she held herself back. This had to be a trick. No way Ellison would just walk through the street like that, so casual, get a medical kit, and walk back to the church. They had to be planning something.

Forward, the machine walked, pushing the girl in front of him as her heels dug into the hard earth, trying to slow the killer down. This was the closest and longest she'd ever gotten to a machine. There was the obvious exception at John's house. And this was the closest since 2026 when a squad of T-600s had killed her friends.

They opened the doors, and Ellison was there, praying under the cross. Cromartie saw him stand up and leave through a side door. The damage from the bank vault prevented the terminator from tracking him on motion scanners once he left.

"Ms. Dawson, call to him," it commanded as it tightened it grip. She remained defiantly quiet. "Ms. Dawson, your services are no longer required. Thank you for your time…" Cromartie said quietly. He spun her around and grabbed her neck. He pressed his pistol into her stomach and saw her eyes lock with his. A muffled _crack, _Riley's body flinched and Cromartie stared into the soon-to-be lifeless eyes of Riley Dawson and for some odd reason Cromartie wasn't even sure of, laid her down slowly on the dusty, creaking floorboards of the old church.

* * *

"Riley? Riley!"

She looked up. She saw a line of blood on John Connor's cheek. Squinting, she could tell it wasn't his. It… was hers?

_Oh_… she realized.

She felt a dull pain in her abdomen, with a warm, viscous liquid rushing down both her flanks.

She felt her head slip to the side and she could see the Cromartie's body splayed in front of the altar, half of its face missing as the sun's light beat down on its head through the dusty church.

Riley felt John's hands on her cheeks, and a blink of her eyes she was looking up at him.

_John… I…_ she wanted to tell him something. She felt her lips moving. Her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier. John was shaking her now. She felt that. She wanted him to keep touching her. The machine was touching her. She didn't want that.

She pushed Cameron away and Riley's eyes widened when she saw her own hand covered in blood, smeared now across the machine girl's jacket and hand.. She saw John snarl something at his machine protector who merely looked at him, stood, and took a step back, remaining rigid and stiff.

Riley felt her lips moving, the afternoon sun fading, casting a myriad of reds and blues and greens from the stained glass windows over her body. She felt a tear drop from John's eyes onto her cheek. She smiled.

She knew he was sensing her death was imminent, and she was trying to mumble something. She could see him shaking. And he leaned down.

"John…" she said quietly. But she wasn't sure if she said it. "I know… I did this for you." She felt the world slipping. She knew how cliché she would sound, laying here, dying, but she had one more thing to say.

She wasn't sure if she said it, and she was even less sure if he heard it. His ear was still by her mouth and she knew her lips had moved, just not if anything more than a whimper had come out.

She wanted to know if John Connor, the great General, had heard her, had even loved her.

She saw his lips move, but she didn't hear anything. If even for a minute, the savior of Mankind had been hers- she didn't need to hear anything from him. She only wondered if he had heard her.

* * *

AN: I thought after Cromartie was dispatched season 2 didn't really have a bad guy to focus on until Kaliba came up. In this story I am going to be introducing new Skynet terminators and others who will be working against the Connors to hasten Judgment Day. Future John also sends back additional Resistance members to aide his past self, Cameron, Sarah, and Derek in the fight against Skynet and all the malevolent entities working to destroy the world.

A preview of Chapter 2 and 3: Chapter Two will introduce the scientists, their abduction spurring the Connors to San Diego to investigate, and a little bit on how John is dealing with Riley's death. Chapter Three will focus on John sort of rekindling his relationship with Cameron.

I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter (or the firs three) and please leave reviews and let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

||||||||||==Archway Plaza Building, San Diego (2 November 2008, 3:30AM)==||||||||||

Doctor Peter Carwin took off his glasses and gently massaged his nose bridge as he let out a deep, labored sigh. His eyes were hurting from too many hours behind a computer and too much squinting at small numbers, equations, and lines of code. He blinked hard and looked towards the fall wall of the office, remembering the advice of his optometrist to focus on something 'far away.'

He didn't understand why the company hadn't built them separate offices. He rolled his eyes but decided to keep putting up with it; the company paid too well. Dr. Carwin had a salary many researchers would kill for. Adding his salary, generous compensation packages, and the royalties he received from his employer for his inventions it came to the high seven figures.

Life had been good to him and he felt blessed.

Right now he didn't feel as much blessed as he did chilly, cold in fact. He'd grown up in Maine and lived briefly in Winnipeg, Canada when growing up. The first opportunity he'd had after he had unhooked himself from his parents' yoke was move south. Way south. He'd tried Florida but found the humidity excruciatingly annoying and disgusting… people smelled. He tried to settle in Arizona but found it too hot and arid. Finally he had settled in California, San Diego, a city he considered to be perfect. The weather was mild, neither too hot nor too cold, and the ocean was brisk but exhilarating, and the people had an energy one couldn't find anywhere else. It was a resort city with a traditional and professional, business-like core.

He fit right in.

Except he felt cold.

"Sam!" he shouted across their work space/laboratory. He tried to yell again, but his voice cracked and wheezed… his lungs were still hoarse from a yelling match he had gotten into with one of his competitors over the phone. He had accused them of stealing one of his ideas and planting a 'mole' into his staff.

His partner didn't respond and continued typing away furiously on his laptop, occasionally leaning over to manipulate some diagram on the Microsoft Surface pads on their desks.

Carwin breathed out snatched a drafting eraser from his desk and threw it at the back of his friend's head.

It hit Sam square in the ear.

"Damnit, Pete, what the fuck?" Dr. Sam Wells shouted as he tugged out his iPod plugs and let them bang on his desk and fall into his lap. "Cheap plastic shit," he cursed, trying to untangle the ear bud cord which had somehow wrapped around his fingers. Finally having enough, he flailed his arm, which sent his iPod flying across the room. "Damnit!" He shot up and stalked over to the device.

"Why the hell do you make it so cold in here?" asked the doctor, grin still wide on his face from his successful attempt to bother his friend. He crossed his arms and fake shivered. "It's like the Arctic in here," he said with a tinge of humor.

Sam rolled his eyes. "You're a pussy that's why."

"That's very mature," he uttered under his breath. He rubbed his eyes again; sleep biting at the back of his mind, tempting his eyelids to close for _just a minute_. "Is that how you're going to speak at the conference next month? There'll be the best people in our field there."

Wells stopped trying to untangle his mess and walked over to Peter's desk. He slid out a chair from a workstation one of the dozens of lab assistants used, and sat down with back facing Pete. He rested his chin on the back top of the chair, forearm underneath for comfort.

"Our 'field'? What is our 'field', exactly?" Sam snorted, leaning back. "God damnit, you know I hate talking in front of those idiots. How many more times are we going to have to answer the same question about the null logic keys and… whenever we bring up the theories on temporal mechanics we get the obnoxious twerps who _must _tell us it is _impossible." _Exacerbated at the mentally taxing thought of how he was going to mount his intellectual defense of the Carwin-Wells Supra Communication Theory (Sam was still annoyed his friend won the coin toss to get his name first) which could revolutionize communications technology from everything from CPUs to radios to the internet.

"Now who's the pussy?" Carwin asked, putting his thoughts into words. He grinned and started chomping down on his teeth, making the inane rattling sound he knew Sam hated. "We ran circles around them. Once we're done with the modeling for tachyon communications… it'll revolutionize everything."

"Only if we call it the _fatline_."

"We're not calling it that," Carwin shot back. "Something original…

Sam ignored him and continued mouthing off fictional names for tachyon-based communication systems he'd read of in science fiction.

"Where are all our workers? Jack and Kim need to get off their honeymoon…" Sam asked suddenly, now bored with his previous imaginations.

"I don't know," Pete responded, leaning further back, grunting, and rubbing his temples. His ran his hands through his short blond hair, then dug his fingers into his scalp and scratched at an itch. "We have a deadline for this new theoretical quantum entanglement models. Fire a couple of them… the students from the university, that'll force the rest to stay until we leave."

"You're a slave driver, you know that? Hey, how much did you bribe the guy to reappraise that mansion of yours on the island?" He shook his head as he slid across the far side of the room to where the server stacks and hard drives were locked and secured behind bullet proof glass cases. Tapping on the glass, he said, "You wont be much good to me in jail, Pete. Actually… maybe I should tell the Coronado police and then I can get a raise from Blacklake."

Carwin sneered and leaned forward, throwing his elbows on his desk and pushing his keyboard and leaning onto his Microsoft Surface desktop display.

The new null logic keys were required for the Q-entanglement models he and Sam were working on could revolutionize communications, and already they'd made significant progress in chip architecture technology- hoping to get Moore's Law renamed Carwin-Wells or the Wells-Carwin Law... doubling computer power every eighteen months would seem like a snail's pace if their theory worked itself out.

Carwin and Wells were hoping their new communications models would introduce 'temporal' messaging- nearly instantaneous transmission and interpretation of data.

_God damnit, what now_, Peter cursed to himself when he heard his Blackberry vibrate. He looked towards the ceiling and promised the Lord he'd say prayers on his Rosary for taking His name in vain.

Slowly he held the phone up to his ear and hit the green button. "Yes Dear? Our daughter isn't back?… she texted me earlier, yeah, I'm sorry I forgot… she'll be fine… no, we raised a responsible daughter… okay… I have some work to do… I love you, too."

_Holy shit, I think I just aged a decade_, Carwin thought, looking at the phone and mechanically hitting the red 'end' button on his Blackberry and tossing it to the far corner of his desk. Letting out a deep, long, very long sigh he let his head fall slowly to his desk. After one, two, three soft bangs and he looked back up.

Sam rolled himself over in two powerful pumps with his legs and banged softly onto the desk.

"Daughter problems?" He asked.

"No… she'll be fine, she has a good head on her shoulders," Pete said, focusing back on his computer monitors.

"She's a genius, you're lucky you have a daughter who'll outshine you one day."

Carwin smirked and closed his eyes. "Yes, thank you." He hit the 'return' key on his keyboard a bit too hard.

He sighed and looked over to his right at his Blackberry and his car keys. If he wanted he could get a driver to take him home, but he preferred to drive himself. "It's not even worth it to go home, since we're coming back at six."

"Bah. Take the day off, Mr. Slave Driver. Anyway, we have Christmas coming up in six weeks… you know, I think most of the staff isn't here because they might be on vacation already," he said to get a rise out of his friend. "We do give them some vacation. Armcam is pretty good about it. They are fairly generous, ya know?" He arched his eyebrows up. "Anyway, I'm going on a trip to the east coast to visit the in-laws." He made a gun with his finger and thumb, a fake cocking sound, put it up to his temple and yelled 'bang'. "Please, kill me… now."

Pete began to reach down to his lower right drawer-

"Seriously? You got a concealed carry and… you're ridiculous, Pete." He shook his head. "I bet you have a DE or something in there… a hand canon or something utterly ridiculous. You'll shoot it and your weak arms wont be able to absorb the recoil and the gun will fly back and break your nose. We have plenty of security here, Pete. I went into their armory once; they have some big shit in there. Not bad," he whistled.

Sam stalked over without a care to the large windows overlooking the dark bay and the San Diego airport. The building, Archway Plaza, the west tower, was forty-two floors and wedged in between Ash and A Street and 2nd and 3rd Avenue and next to the Westgate Plaza Mall. The west tower was the largest of the two, and the east tower was only twenty-nine floors.

A subsidy of Armcam, Blacklake Aerospace had purchased the company Carwin and Wells had founded, the Argo Development Corporation, in 2001 and moved them to the Archway Plaza building in 2002.

From the thirty-third floor he could see over the buildings, aligned at a diagonal with his and Pete's workspace and off at the airport.

He stretched, and let out a long, deep yawn. He snickered when he heard Pete sigh across the lab, annoyed with the disturbance. It was late, too late.

"Shit," he muttered. It was nearly four. He rubbed his eyes and smacked his lips, running hs tongue over his teeth and around his mouth. It tastes stale, old, like he'd been asleep, but he hadn't been.

"Alright, Pete," Sam declared, walking quickly over to his friend and grabbing his own jacket from his chair, "it's time to get home to our wives."

When Pete began to protest Sam grabbed him under his arm pit and pulled him up.

"Sam, I have a shit ton of work to do," he said, shoving Sam off and leaning down to finish typing and drawing on his self-programmed and modified Surface desktop.

"Pete, I'm not going to stop bothering you. We have a month to finish and maybe, maybe three weeks of work left. We'll be good. Let's go."

"God. Fine, fine… let me… save the files," he said, his tongue coming between his teeth, like the act to click 'file' and 'save' was as mentally taxing as theoretical physics. His finger slid quickly and efficiently over the keys, and hitting 'control, s' saved the files. Standing up he let out a deep, defeated sigh. "Fine, let's go."

Sam smirked and patted the back of his friend a few times. He knew if he didn't keep it up, Pete would throw himself back to his work station and into his models and programming.

In the hall the two passed a lone security guard, making his rounds.

"Evening Al," Dr. Wells said, giving the man a tired smile.

"Dr. Wells, Dr. Carwin," Albert greeted, nodding his head. "Late night?"

"Oh yeah… deadlines and all that coming up, gotta pay the bills. The lab's all locked up though."

Al smiled. "I still have to check it. Protocol and all that." He shrugged. "I believe you though."

"You going to bring your fiancée around so we can meet her?" Sam asked as he turned to face Al and walked backwards.

Al smiled, and looked away. Closing one eye as if thinking he nodded once. "I think she'll be up for that at some point." He wrinkled his nose and breathed out slowly. "But she gets a mean case of vertigo when riding elevators… so, hopefully." He arched his eyebrows expectantly.

Sam waved, snickering. "Alright. Well, Pete and I are heading home. We'll see you in the PM."

The security guard smiled a goodbye turned and walked towards the lab. "Good night… or morning, or something…!" he shouted and gave them a backwards wave.

Sam and Pete finally made it to the private elevator servicing their labs. When Sam heard the doors close and felt the downward jolt of the elevator he finally breathed out, satisfied that Pete was safe from the perils of overwork.

In the parking garage and loading dock a company driver waited for them. Pete and Sam often shared the same car, since Sam lived in a high rise apartment penthouse on the way to the Coronado Bridge. Plus it was just their 'thing.' Pete always got picked up first then they swung by Sam's. In the evening Sam got dropped off first and then Pete.

"Maybe one day they'll let us take the helicopter home?" Sam asked as he looked over at Pete, who was walking and typing on his Blackberry.

Neither of them were paying attention when they got into the car. Blacklake and Armcam contracted out a local service to drive them both home at night when they stayed late; both their wives had insisted.

After a few minutes Sam looked over to Pete, who was fiddling with his Blackberry with a scowl plastered right on the center of his face.

"What's wrong?" Sam sighed, leaning back into the leather seats and closing his eyes.

"I don't know… signal isn't getting through," he said, resorting to the timeless tactic of hitting the device with the side of his hand.

"A great computer scientist and you resort to smacking it with your hand," Sam pointed out, laughing. "Here, use mine," he reached into his pocket and handed him his phone, still with his eyes closed. Pete just batted it away. "No signal with mine, either," Sam said, holding up his phone and furling his eyebrows. _Strange_, he thought.

The car stopped, and Pete and Sam saw a man approach from the side, who promptly opened the door and got in across from the two, facing them. The car then casually accelerated to the speed limit, turning away onto 5th Avenue then taking a right on G Street. Sam and Pete were alarmed now, searching frantically for where they were going. The man across from them just sat there, calm and collected.

"What the hell is going on?!" Pete yelled as the car passed the last green light and merged onto Highway Five. "Who the hell are you?"

"Dr. Carwin and Dr. Wells, please relax. I am Agent William Vansen with the Department of Defense," he explained, reaching into his suit pocket and flipping open his identification.

"Yeah, so? What's with the theatrics?" Pete dourly demanded as he gave the man's badge a cursory inspection. He didn't bother to read it and didn't care much what agency this man was with, he just wanted to get home now.

"Theatrics? No. Not theatrics. Necessity. I apologize, Dr. Wells and Dr. Carwin. But your expertise is needed. We have a helicopter waiting at the airport. If you are patient, everything will be explained to you."

"I doubt that," Sam replied under his breath.

"Don't, Dr. Wells. I'm here to help you. We all are. Your research is very important; temporal mechanics, quantum modeling… everything. I read your August 2006 paper in _Proceedings of the Nation Academy of Sciences of the United States of America_," he beamed, smiling, almost child-like in joy. Vansen noticed Wells brush him off. His face changed immediately to a blank, impassive stare. "It was your article on _Tachyon Bursts and Quantum Tunneling, a Perspective of Temporal Manipulation for Near Instantaneous Communication._"

Sam narrowed his eyes at the man, his brow furling down at the radical change in behavior.

"I'm sure you have," Sam muttered under his breath as he turned away from the agent.

William Vansen remained motionless for a few long, beating seconds before turning his head, aligning it perfectly with his body and spine, moving only to guarantee his passengers remained calm.

==========Connor Residence (3 November 2008 1:15PM)==========

_Being John Connor can be lonely_, John told himself. He'd repeated that statement over and over again in his mind. _Being John Connor can be lonely… being John Connor can be lonely_.

Staring at the ceiling, half hidden by a lazy hand covering his eyes, he once again told himself that life wasn't fair. He was acutely aware of the cliché nature of his sixteen year old, soon-to-be seventeen year old, thought processes.

John felt a brief pang through his chest when he temporarily thought of himself as the 'typical' seventeen year old, male, hormonal, rebelling, take-you-pick-of-stereotypes, teenager.

He tapped his forehead with that same lazy hand covering his eyes. He _wasn't_ like any run-of-the-mill teenager. He, _John Connor (!), _ was supposed to be a great leader of man… rally the survivors of the nuclear holocaust which still seemed well on its way… but he couldn't save the ones closest to himself.

The young teenager huffed, a bit too hard, a bit of spittle splattering on his wrist. Moaning, he let his hand and arm slump to his side and he rubbed the moisture away into his bed sheets.

He looked around at the room his mother had assigned to him. It was a kid's room. It had kiddy wall paper and lame propeller planes smeared about. He sat on his equally lame kid's bed with its red, blue, and yellow crescent headboard, barely large enough for two…

John sat up as if in revelation, remembering that being him meant he was 'supposed' to notice things others didn't. Derek said John Connor recognized flaws in Skynet troop movements, patterns in their strategies and tactics, and holes in their defenses. He would see something and analyze it even if he wasn't looking for _it_… whatever that ambiguous '_it'_ was supposed to be.

He was _supposed_ to just know what to do.

He looked around his small kiddy room, quietly brooding, listening to the soft hum of air escaping from the baseboard vents spaced around his room.

The first day he'd met Riley, Riley Dawson, she had spent the night. He grinned at that thought. Two sixteen year old kids 'spending the night' often resulted in… things. Things? _Is that my best word for it_, John questioned to himself.

The teen shook his head. Maybe he did mean 'things'… it wasn't like he'd had a very active social life. Going from school to school he was the 'weird new kid'… so he'd never learned the essential social/talking-to-girl skills most kids learned in school.

He had a rough idea what the 'things' were a sixteen year old was supposed to do with a girl when alone in a room, late at night… he shook his head, none of that mattered now.

That night they'd just spent talking. He'd enjoyed it. He talked. She talked. There was silence. Then he talked again and then she talked. More silence as they seemed to connect on some level… his friend _real_ friend since Tim.

Laughing quietly he remember all the little exploits he and Tim had… he remembered he got the cash for them, Tim supplied the transportation and had warned him about the police man, the terminator searching for him… _that_ was a friend.

John's thoughts drifted back to his first night with Riley. They talked and then he fell asleep. He hadn't stopped then to wonder what she had done while he was sleeping.

So, noticing the thing he wasn't looking for, he shook that thought from his head and refocused. In the plastic Tupperware there were the Legos. With a sigh he twisted his body and rolled himself off his tiny bed. His feet hit the floor, cold, and he brought them back up. Looking over at the clock, it was almost noon. With some quick mental math he determined he'd spent nearly fifteen hours in the bed.

His stomach growled, and he looked down. Patting it, he looked for a shirt in a room which looked like a warzone. He grunted at the imagery.

He looked around again, his tired and bored eyes lingering about the clutter on the floor and his dresser.

"I guess John Baum lives here," he said aloud in the mocking, condescending tone his uncle had used on him in the past. He allowed himself a moment of introspection he didn't want.

He put his feet back down, slowly this time on the floor. It was cold, just like his life He stood up and walked over and yanked out the Tupperware bin.

Riffling through the Legos, half built dinosaurs, houses and pirate ships he pulled out the robot Riley had built for him.

"_It's a robot, big scary man, whatever. He's for you. To protect you while you sleep_," he remembered her saying. He picked up the big scary man robot, the multicolored robot, and flipped it around and upside down in his hands. Carefully, he twirled one of the arms. Riley had used some weird new Lego ball-and-socketjoint (whatever happened to simple blocks?) to make moveable appendages.

He felt a small dribble from his nose and brought his other hand up to wipe it. Then a little drop fell on the robot, the big scary man Lego. Looking down at it he lost focus on it, and the big scary man Lego got blurry.

John was jolted back when he heard a crash and something scatter across the wood floor. Looking down the Lego had somehow slipped from his surprisingly sweaty hand. Feeling slightly dizzy he stalked over to his bed and fell face first into its soft embrace, the weak springs propelling him back up just an inch, and let out a deep throated moan as his face settled into his pillow.

"_I know… I did this for you…"_ Those had been Riley's words, the word's she'd whispered to him.

He reached back and with a fist, struck his pillow once, then again.

Was there anyone who would just be honest with him?

John Connor reached back a third time, to hit the little kiddy pillow again, but stopped mid swing. With a slow, cautious movement he put his hand down onto his bed, palm down, then brought his other hand and arm to mimic the motion. He pushed up and looked around. Biting his lip his looked down at the floor, at the robot, the big scary man Lego had shattered into a hundred components and multicolored pieces.

_This isn't John Connor_, he told himself.

==========Somewhere in California (4 November 2008 1:15PM)==========

Peter Carwin shook nervously as he breathed in staggered, labored breaths. He began tensing his right leg, a nervous tic he'd developed over the last couple of… he didn't know… he realized then he didn't know how long he'd been kidnapped for.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head and biting down repeatedly on his teeth, listening to their _tap-tap-taps _ as he slowly calmed down.

The scientists opened his eyes, held his breath, and then released… his body calming.

He looked out across from him and beside him, at the depressing walls, the gleaming metal table and the reflecting light almost blinding him. He closed down, pressing his heavy-feeling eyelids shut.

How long had it been since he'd last slept? He didn't know and didn't want to know.

Dr. Carwin opened his eyes at the end of his breath and looked around. Again he saw the bleak, dreary gray walls boxing him in. He focused. He saw a water stain running down the side of the door frame… a large black pipe running overhead and disappearing into the wall, and a rectangular, plastic looking pipe… fiber optic pipes. He squinted, his mouth falling as he considered the enigma of where he was?

In front of him were two individuals, a man and woman. Next to him sat his best friend and colleague, Sam Wells and in front of them both was positioned a cold, silvery metal table, as utilitarian and boring as the metal chairs he and Wells were forced to sit in.

Vansen stood behind the two, mere inches from their backs.

_How fucking clichéd_, he told himself.

He sighed and looked over at his best friend and colleague, Sam Wells. His friend looked back, giving him a reassuring smile.

Carwin looked at Vansen and focused on the imposing figure, measuring up the man who had kidnapped him and his friend. The 'agent' had lied to them, drugged them, and transported them somewhere… to this bunker or whatever it was. So far he'd seen two rooms, a small cell and now this room, and two hallways. It was depressing, melancholic, saddening, dispiriting…

"Are you fucking Al-Qaeda? They paying you? Fucking traitors," Sam said with a disdainful, accusatory venom. He knew he was grasping at phantoms, but his mind was fractured and disorganized, and he had yelled the first thing that had come to him.

"No, no, we're not Al-Qaeda, Sam," the unidentified man on the right confidently stated. "And no, we're not traitors. While we are from what you could consider the United States… we are hardly Americans. Therefore it is impossible to betray this… _nation_. So we are not traitors, either," the man said with a satisfactory grin. It was clear from his tone he held allegiance to no nation.

Sam narrowed his darkening eyes at him, puffing out his chest and squirming forward in his chair.

"So what do you want with us?" Pete asked. Sitting so straight and stiff forced him to tilt his head to his right shoulder, forcing a relieving _crack-crack-crack_ of cervical vertebrae to relieve him of some tension.

"I don't think you'd believe us, even if we told you," an unidentified woman on the left of the two scientists stated tiredly. "I'm sorry… my name is Rachel," she introduced herself as she brought her hand to her chest.

Pete looked over. 'Rachel' was pretty. Young, and very pretty. She had dirty blond hair, gentle facial features, full lips, and light eyes, almost a blue-gray. The scientist guessed she couldn't be any older than the late twenties.

To the scientist she seemed to have an eclectic mix of ethnic features about her; a mix of northern European with some African, maybe some Arab, and a hint of Chinese or East Asian. Whatever it was, the scientist was enamored with her beauty.

The man on the other hand was older, maybe in his fifties, with black skin and gray streaks through his close-cut hair. He had a squared off jaw and broad, powerful shoulders. Pete looked down at the man's hands and could see scars running jagged and haphazardly.

The most distinguishing feature was a burn mark which covered the right side of his neck and right in front of his ear and a scar on the left side of face, right near the corner of the lip and stopping under the left eye. A slight discoloration had left a bit of the man's dark face a slight pinkish color, beginning in front of the man's ear at the scar and ending an inch forward.

Pete looked the man in the eye and saw emptiness in the man's dark brown orbs, a distant stare one saw in soldiers- the glazing- and Pete wondered if this man had been a soldier… maybe Vietnam? The way he sat told the scientist this man was a leader, an organizer.

Pete finally focused back and remembered the statement Rachel had made. He flashed the woman a mocking smile. "Try me," he ordered, somewhat desperately. He wanted answers. He _needed_ answers.

"Yeah, try us," Sam said, folding his arms, trying to sound cocky.

"Dr. Carwin," Rachel began, then turned to his associated, "Dr. Wells… there are forces in this world, magnificent and malevolent forces which would work to destroy everything you know and hold of value. Like your mansion you just had re-appraised," she said. "Did you ever wonder where some of the advances you worked on came from?

Pete leered at her. He'd seen plenty of bad movies where the interrogators try and get some emotional rise out of the people. Now he wondered if she was accusing them of industrial espionage, stealing secrets or something ridiculous.

"What?" Sam asked.

"You two have been working on various technologies such as AI, chip architecture, and communications… and the patents you have submitted for Armcam have made them billions- hundreds of billions. But we know that not all those ideas are yours… they came from somewhere else. You had help and inspiration which pushed your research into new realms you never dreamt off," she trailed off, watching their reactions. The left side of her lips quivered into a smirk when she saw Sam's eyes narrow.

Her eyes wandered and seemed to soften when she looked between the men and up, towards the imposing 'Agent' Vansen. Sam wasn't paying attention, but Pete noticed.

"Blacklake purchased our company… and so what… there's always something inspiring someone else-"

The older gentleman across from the two scientists answered. "We've been watching Blacklake for some time and Armcam… you don't know who you were working for."

Rachel nodded, a string of hair falling down from behind her ear. Delicately she tucked it back and let her hand fall gracefully to the table. "I'm not talking about 'something', I'm talking about specific ideas- the specific piece of hardware for your… 'fatline' messaging, which requires the null logic keys you are working on… Armcam tasked you with working on this, did they not?" She asked. She noted the two didn't answer, an admission, she concluded. "I know you have seen technology you didn't know existed, ideas which seemed radical and impossible, only to have them proven to be _realistic _and very possible. You were pushed in certain directions, given certain incentives to look for something you had dismissed…" she ended her elaboration, noting the two scientists understood her point.

Pete gave Sam a gentle backhanded tap in the side of the arm when Rachel used the term for their tachyon-based communications model Sam had wanted.

"The null logic keys are something we've been considering for years," Pete filled in for her. "We only began working on them a few years ago."

"Exactly. And what motivated you to work on the keys? The ultimate extension of the logic keys and tachyon communication models you are working on… do you know? It would be able to fold space and created temporal displacement events."

"You're talking about time travel?" Sam snickered. "Maybe in a few hundred years we might be able to send a particle back in time... We'll be lucky to have the fatline built in the next two decades." He beamed with pride when he repeated the unofficial name for the communication system. He shrugged dismissively, a light groan escaping his throat. "I mean, we think it will be possible but not for a long, long time. A long time," he stressed again.

Rachel tilted her head, a flicker of a knowing smile beginning to form.

"Hundreds of years?" She asked. Sam noted the rhetorical tone. "Well…" she folded her arms in front of her, "Mr. Vansen will familiarize you with what you will be doing for us. And why do you say this can lead to time travel at your lectures?"

"Because it _can_ doesn't mean it _will_," Pete pointed out. He'd dug his chin into his chest and was staring intently at the two, the woman and the man, dividing his attention now between them. "More likely we could use it to build a computer, a true AI." He shrugged.

She smiled wide, showing unnaturally white, straight, and perfect teeth.

"Dr. Wells," the man on the right began, "You can believe us. We need you. I would appeal to your sense of self-preservation, as anything alive does have one, or appeal your desire to discover. I don't know which is more important to you. But believe us when we say we have methods to force your cooperation. Methods which will not be pleasant for you, methods we will employ, reluctantly, but with professionalism and in a manner designed to bring about the desired result. We can do this all without damaging your mind or your body."

"And what's going to happen when the company finds out we're missing? It's not like we aren't known," Dr. Carwin told him sternly. "We just can't 'disappear'."

"Of course, you are absolutely correct," the man on the right said with an agreeable tone and a nod. "But we have resources which will make… certain things happen. And it won't matter in a few years, anyway," he said, leaning back. "Besides, you should want to work with us. We're going to win."

"Win what?" the skeptical scientist asked.

"Yeah, win what? You don't look like Al-Qaeda, but you certainly act like a bunch of terrorists. Who are you working for? Because now you two are sounding like some sort of corporate thieves or… this is just damn odd." He sighed and narrowed his eyes at the two across from him as his shoulders dropped in exhausted disgust over this.

"That's not your concern," Rachel said in a sweet voice. "If you cooperate than we can guarantee that when the time comes, your family will be safe and you will be safe. You'll all be safe, and reunited."

"Ha," Sam huffed. "I've seen enough bad movies and read enough trashy novels to know that when the bad guys, aka, you all, make promises, you're just going to break them," he said as he looked away and stared down at the bare cement floor. "And safe means something like 'safe in death' after you kill us."

"You haven't been mistreated or-"

"Except for the kidnapping," Carwin interrupted. He ended his statement with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. Then he sat back and scooted his metal chair against the cement floor, causing an ear-piercing screech.

He and Sam flinched, but he was surprised when neither of the two across from his did. His shoulders dropped.

"The company you were working for, Armcam, do you know their history?" the woman asked, leaning forward, looking from one to the other.

"Look it up on _Wikipedia_," Sam snidely offered.

Pete looked at Rachel then back at Vansen. The look she had given Vansen earlier he had expected him to step forward and somehow threaten he and Sam. Vansen looked down at him, an eerie , forced smile crossing his lips, which seemed to strain under the pressure. Pete turned his head back towards Rachel and the man, his eyes darting side to side at the strange sight he'd witnessed.

"Wikipedia has information useful to the public, Dr. Wells. Armcam is not _just_ a technology corporation with their military contracts and other-"

Pete rolled his eyes and snickered. "Here we go… military-industrial complex, evil company, blah blah blah, right?" he slapped his knee, frustrated.

"They haven't been honest in where some of those ideas have come from," Rachel said. She held up her hand as Pete began to open his mouth, shushing him. "That's all you will know now. You'll know more later."

Pete swore that if they were going to use him, he would use them. He didn't doubt his intelligence, his intellect and his ability to manipulate them. What he and Sam had done in the last ten years had been groundbreaking. If he could crack the code to time, he could trick these… people, into trusting him.

The young woman methodically ran her eyes over the two men, leaning forward and placing her palms on the cool metal table. It sent a small shiver up her body.

"What we're doing here… it's important. You two are men of faith… are you familiar with Matthew… Chapter Seven?" Rachel asked.

"The false prophets?" Pete asked harshly. "…people who present themselves in sheep clothing, but are ravenous wolves? Yes," he sneered. "How fitting and clichéd."

"The next one, Doctor Carwin," she said. "We do mighty deeds, but not all of us do the right deeds, Dr. Carwin." She began to stand, but sat back down. "And yes… you should be aware of the false prophet," she stated quietly and looked down at the table and over to the elderly, dark-skinned man next to her. "He can't stop what's coming."

The man shook his he slowly in agreement.

"What does that even mean?" Sam shot at her, unconcerned with the repercussions of agitating his captors.

"It means once you realize the truth, once you learn it for yourselves, you'll join us willingly." She saw the confusion, laced with a liberal amount of contempt and astonishment sweep across their faces. "That means we can't tell you, not now, not until you're ready."

The man stood up and nodded to Rachel, putting a hand on her shoulder before he let it slide gently off her shoulder as he walked towards the door.

The door opened, and the elderly man exited first. Rachel stood up and made it to the door before she placed her hand on the frame and turned back to face the two men sitting, still trying to understand what they had seen between Rachel and a man easily twice her age.

She ignored their stares, looking at them but over them, towards the barren and gray concrete wall, she carefully licked her lips before speaking.

"Dr. Wells and Dr. Carwin," she began tacitly as she took two well-intentioned steps forward. "We know much about the both of you, we've been watching you, and we chose you. We all did." Her eyebrows arched and she ignored their confused, baffled stares. "We also trust you both to do what is right. What we are doing… is it right? Maybe… if not… we're all judged in death. I hope it is, I have faith that it is, but I fear it isn't." She looked down at them both. "We can't stop progress and we can't stop the sounding of the trumpets, but we can dull their noise. Don't betray us," she warned.

She looked up at Vansen and nodded to him. He stepped forward and placed his hands on the two men's' shoulders. Giving both men one last, long look Rachel forced herself a depressing smile and left.

Pete and Sam had obviously been expecting for Vansen to take them by their collars and shove them in a dingy cell, lock some cool, rusty metal door, and be done with them until they were needed for whatever Rachel and that man were planning. Where Vansen did 'escort' them, was completely unexpected for either of the two scientists expecting something bad and preparing for something even worse.

Seeing it, they were both shocked, more in a dumbfounded manner than a surprised one. The 'it' was a large apartment, apparently build underground like the rest of the facility. It was large, perhaps even opulent compared to the rest of their surroundings.

The structural design was similar to Wells's industrial loft in downtown San Diego. The main room was quite large and open. Immediately on the left was situated a kitchen of respectable size with what appeared to be top-of-the-line appliance, granite countertops, and a small bit of space for eating. The rest of the room had a mix of furniture and open spaces, mimicking the in-style 'great rooms' many new constructions were built with. Bookshelves lined the left wall, there were two computer workstations about half way in, and at the rear was a very large plasma flatscreen television, sofas and recliners.

"You will both share these quarters, but there are individual rooms down this hall," 'Agent' Vansen said, stepping from behind the two and indicating the necessary hall. "Each room is fully furnished, dimensions approximately twenty-five by thirty feet. You will find we have selected a wardrobe for you similar to the ones you possessed." He walked over in front of them and faced them. "These quarters are divided into a great room, with entertainment center, kitchen and attached dining facility, a small office, and down the hallway next to the kitchen is a small workout facility for your use." He walked back in front of the quiet scientists and clasped his hands behind his back. "Any recreational materials you may need you can request and I will determine if they are appropriate."

Carwin leered at him and took a menacing step forward. Vansen held his ground and maintained the same cheerful smile and relaxed posture.

"Comfortable? We've been kidnapped and thrown into a dungeon. That's what this is," he threw his hands up and motioned all around, making circles, horizontal slashes, and half a dozen other gestures in the air. He searched around frantically and found a wall decoration; a vase on a floating shelf. He picked it up and tossed it to the marble surrounding the entrance, letting it break. "This is just fantasy. You people are twisted. This is like… what… I don't know, fucking playing house. I'm not going to do it."

"Dr. Carwin. If this is the attitude you are going to have, our time together is going to be very unpleasant. I have been assigned to protect you. You and Dr. Wells," he nodded to the silent scientist who was staring at the broken vase. The hundreds of pieces had shattered and were splayed in front of Vansen's feet. "You and Dr. Wells do not understand how… lucky… you two are. There are many out there who would not treat you as well as we are."

"And who is this 'we'?!" Carwin shouted, pounding his fist down on the floating shelf, almost knocking it loose.

"Dr. Carwin… I can either explain everything to you, or you can discover the truth on your own. I have no doubt you will soon begin to ask questions." He held up his finger. "More specific questions than the broad one you just asked. When you have observed your surroundings and have formulated more precise questions, I will gladly answer them. Now, you two may want to choose which rooms you will want." He smirked. "Each one, we believe, has been suited to your personal style. Though we were unsure when we modeled your rooms if it was your personal style, or the styles your respective wives chose," he shrugged. "But we hope it is comforting, or at least, familiar. Please, explore the premises. I will be here if you need me," his eyes narrowed, "cleaning up your mess Dr. Carwin. My primary assignment is to not clean up after temper tantrums, but I shall this time. Please, do not do that again."

==========Los Angeles National Forrest (6 November 2008 (9:45PM)==========

The blackness, the stars dotting the sky, and a chance to get away from it all had encouraged hundreds of hikers to make for the Los Angeles National Forest. Away from the yellow, orange, and white lights of the urban landscape, far from suburbia, those seeking a private, quiet, perhaps even intimate night saw this time as an opportunity. The unseasonably warm weather had made many in Los Angeles restless with some taking their extra energy out for a night of hiking, camping, and sleeping under the stars.

Kelly and Richard Carson, two middle-aged, yuppie-wannabe hikers from the Burbank area of the expansive LA county had taken this night and the opportunities presented by it and embrace it.

Richard had surprised his wife shortly before dinner with a small dinner of sandwiches, crackers, and Brie, he'd bought from Trader Joe's, with a small bottle of red wine, and had literally sweeping her off her feet like newlyweds, drove her to the Forest and to the San Gabriel Reservoir.

They'd found a little clearing right near the reservoir after parking their car off EE Fork Road, and hiked in a mile around the eastern edge of the reservoir, where the main water body split to form a rough 'Y'.

They'd seen a few other couples hiking along, mostly young to middle-age people such as themselves, and a few families out with teenaged children. A friendly couple had even walked with them for about half a mile, before the two women had said their goodbyes and turned off on a side path.

Kelly and Richard had heard them giggling to each other as they'd left. Richard had leaned over after they were out of ear-shot and told his wife, more like implied it, that he had more than just 'diner' planned for them.

Remembering that as he stared up, he had to laugh and rub his side where Kelly had jabbed him. They'd be married for seven years now… and hopefully tonight would be the night where they finally got lucky and Kelly would be pregnant.

"I think I've teased you long enough," Kelly said, rolling over on top of Richard, who was on his back with his hand behind his head as a pillow. She listened to his heavy breathing and placed her hands on his powerful chest. "I think you've… earned a little treat…" she winked.

"Oh yeah?" He asked, his turn to tease her and feign ignorance. "You mean me and the guys can have that trip to Vegas next month?" He grinned. She playfully hit in him the chest before wrapping her arms around the back of his head and leaning in for a deep kiss.

The kiss was long and deep, the man and woman wrapped in a loving embrace as they began to-

A piercing _crack-boom_ and a wave of pressure and gusts of wind raced over the two lovers, jolting them from their world and back into a frightening reality. Kelly, stunned and frightened, rolled over off of Richard, propping herself up on her elbows, stared wide-eyed, mouth gaping open out towards the water.

The water was puffing steam into the air and the reeds and grasses along the bank was blowing softly away towards the two lovers.

"What the hell is that?" Richard asked, fixated on the sight. He wrapped his arm tighly around Kelly's waist and pulled her closer as they both slowly stood to watch.

They were both shaking.

As the two looked on blue-black lightning began to radiate outwards, seemingly from nowhere, before it coalesced into a dark black ball. They stared at the blackness, an abyss of darkness as its sides crackled and shot bolt after bolt towards the water and into the sky.

A bolt struck the shoreline, melting the dirt and sand into a fine glass. Kelly jumped back as a second bolt bore itself into the ground, lighting a path of fire over the reeds and grasses as it traveled.

They both backed up cautiously, afraid, but mesmerized into a state of near paralysis by the dark, Cimmerian orb.

Neither of them had ever seen anything this beautiful, this stunning if their lives. They knew what they were looking at was dangerous, the lightning strike proof enough, but it was captivating. Their mouths hung open and their eyes sparkled with an intense concentration, reflecting the growing orb of light in their lenses.

The black, dark focal point suddenly expanded and dozens of bolts of lightning shot out, vaporizing and steaming the water beneath. There was more crackling and a loud boom. The sphere pulsed once, then twice, the hair on the onlooker's arms standing straight. A third pulse and a sudden, second-long pulse of the blue-black bolts surged out, digging into the bank and water, sending steaming geysers into the air and melting the sand into a dirty, darkened glass.

The pulses stopped and the sphere vanished, sucking the water up in a fit of negative pressure.

They both heard a splash.

"What the hell was that, Richard?" Kelly asked, whispering. She dared to step forward a bit until she was almost right on the water's edge. She bent down, poking timidly at the melted sand. She squeaked in surprise when her poking broke a thin sheet.

Kelly looked out towards the water, looking for the source of the splash, bobbing her head and neck up and down and sideways. She studied the water, still rippling out and lapping onto the shoreline from where the sphere had appeared and vanished. "Richard, look," she said, patting him on the arm to get his attention.

She was pointing out at a set of glowing lights, spaced only a few inches apart as they neared the surface of the water.

"What in the world…" Richard said. A head appeared, quickly, then it paused. "What the hell is that?" Richard yelled. He took a few steps back and tripped over Kelly, and using his hands and feet, pushed himself back up to the blanket he and Kelly had been laying on. Fumbling around the backpack he brought, he grabbed a flashlight and pepper spray.

Trying to click it on, he cursed then hit the side. A beam flickered then went out, then flickered again. He finally for the flashlight working, and his hand shaking, he held it out towards the reservoir, where he saw the head and the two lights.

"Where the hell… what was that?" Kelly asked her husband as the two crept closer to the edge.

He swung the flashlight around, searching for whatever they'd seen. Richard had his index finger poised over the pepper spray canister trigger release, ready for action. Peering out and squinting, he used the hand hold the pepper spray to gently push back his wife.

"Come on… let's get out of here. Call the cops."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

||||||||||==Connor Residence (6 November 2008)==||||||||||

John came down the creaky wooden steps of the house slowly, placing one foot in front of the other with a diligence and precaution he never knew he possessed. He didn't really want to confront his mom or Derek at the moment.

But he couldn't sneak by her.

"John," he stopped mid-stride when he heard the voice behind him, at the top of the stairs. It was soft, but suspicious.

_How the hell did she get up there? _John asked himself. He swore he had listened to her go down stairs on patrol. Why was she there? Was she waiting for him?

Stopping like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he brought himself to his full height but kept his back to her. "Yes, Cameron?" He asked coolly. He felt his jaw muscles flicker as he waited for her response.

"Where are you going?" she asked tentatively, waiting to gauge his response before she continued. He was dressed in shorts and a tee-shirt, with running shoes.

She watched John's shoulder slump, as if a new burden had been cast on top of him.

He grinded his teeth and closed his eyes. He kept his eyes closed and prayed she would not press the issue. Reluctantly he felt his mouth opening and his throat vibrating as he began to answer.

"I'm going for a run. Down to Griffith Park, maybe a walk, I don't know. Something besides sitting here in my room like I have for the last couple of uh… days," he over-explained. He heard her coming down the stairs and he turned around on the landing. "Why?"

"John… I should go with you," she said slowly. Her voice was quiet.

She debated bringing up Riley. John had spent months with her. He had put himself in danger to spend time with her. She replayed the memory of him running from her at the computer store and again when he'd implied he would not see Riley again.

The detailed files she kept on human psychology informed her that such a relationship of that duration usually resulted in prolonged feelings of sadness, even mild depression.

Cameron accessed her memory files, digging deeper in her quick analysis of John's behavior. John had seen her approximately on one hundred and forty-six separate occasions and spent over six hundred and thirty-eight hours with her.

"I'd like to go alone," John said. He counted the stairs Cameron had stepped down. She was two behind him. "Be alone. Cromartie's dead," his voice cracked.

Cameron tilted her head at this.

"John," Cameron said. "There are dangers."

He closed his eyes at the use of his name.

"Well, I'm going now," he turned swiftly and mechanically examined her She was wearing black cargo fatigues, her black tank top… he thought it was very similar to what she'd worn in Mexico… but no shoes, which he found odd. "And you're not dressed for running."

She took a step forward. "Then I will have to run in this." She ran the next statement through her neural net interaction subroutines. They recommended against the next line, but she overrode them.

" I might look like a freak, though," she said lightly, forcing herself to smile for John's benefit at the memory, before her own smile faded back to its neutral, passive line. John's scowl informed her the comment may have had the opposite effect of what she had been hoping for.

She looked down, hanging her head at her failure.

As a machine she could read the most minute change in facial features- micro expressions of the face and body were able to be scientifically linked with emotions and motivations. Even if she could not understand the emotion, she could academically differentiate them. Unfortunately, looking at the floor, she could not see the sympathy which flashed over John's face.

Sighing, he turned back around and threw himself over and onto the couch. "Fine," he smacked his knees, "five minutes then I'm gone, whether you're ready or not." He looked over to the TV remote and debated turning on the television to something, but a Thursday at a quarter past ten in the morning didn't have much on. He figured he could watch a trashy talk show for a few minutes.

He turned the TV off after flipping through the first few channels. Sensing something wrong he flickered his ears back… it was completely silent.

"Where's mom and Derek?" He asked himself in quiet contemplation.

"They're out," Cameron said, surprising John. He almost jumped off the couch, but caught himself. He hadn't even realized he'd asked himself the question out loud. "They're going to retrieve Cromartie's body. They should be there in two hours. If traffic conditions are optimal, John," she added with a matter-of-fact tone.

John looked her over again. She'd changed, quickly, as usual, into a pink Nike tank top and some short, very short, black Nike shorts and running shoes.

"Finally… ready, now?" He sighed in frustration, crossing his arms.

"It took me sixty-four seconds to get ready. Faster than you."

John looked her over once more before looking quickly at the door and getting up. He needed to escape the house and clear his mind, stay active. As he opened the door and let Cameron out first, he followed her down the steps. He felt something inside of him, struggling to get to the surface. Something told him everything would be changing.

John had spent his early, impressionable years growing up in hot, humid climates. The jungles of South and Central America weren't just hot; they had a drowning humidity to them where he felt he could swim through the air at times. The impression that had left was that he would take the dry heat of LA over the hot and humid climate of the jungle any day.

Deftly dodging a black Ford Taurus pulling out of a driveway, he thought back to a few weeks he'd spent in Florida when he was… nine or ten, he believed. It was… he was trying to remember… after he and his mom came back from South America. Yes, that was right. They'd come in by boat to Florida and his mom had somehow found the money to pay for a two week hotel stay on the beach, the Gulf coast side.

He didn't know how his mom had gotten the money… he didn't really want to know. Up until shooting forward in time and coming across Cameron and Derek (and their impressive skills related to thievery, particularly diamonds) they'd never had much money since his mom had been forced to take odd jobs which required little paperwork or references. They didn't want to make a trail anyone could follow.

Their life depended on leaving behind the smallest footprint they could.

John had loved the two weeks he and his mom had spent in Florida, on the Gulf coast, playing on the white beaches and swimming in the clear waters and having sandwiches and juice boxes on the beach. Despite the drenching humidity, which he hated, it had been one of the best times he'd ever had.

He and his mom, the inseparable duo he remembered, running around and splashing each other in the water. Even as a kid, knowing what was out there, that moment in time had been his and his mom's, theirs forever. He'd felt truly safe with her then.

"We've run five point three miles John," Cameron said, interrupting his thoughts. "Do you wish to return to the house?" She asked.

His muscles suddenly began aching with the unwanted and unappreciated statement on how far they'd run. He wanted to sarcastically thank her for jolting him away from his thoughts, but he still felt good enough to continue. And he didn't want to spoil this moment by saying anything negative. He didn't respond. Instead he just sped up as he saw Griffith Park up ahead.

Once inside, he dodged and weaved around some slower people; an older couple walking hand in hand, and a group of young kids playing and running around and screaming. He focused a little too long on the scene, the normalcy of it, and almost ploughed into another couple walking.

Thankfully Cameron alerted him before he did, and with an artful dodge and plant of his right foot, shot to the left and barely averted them. He threw back a 'Sorry!' for brushing against them and more than likely leaving behind a bit of sweat as evidence of his intrusion.

"Cameron, you're… n-not even… s-sweating," John said, shooting her a quick glance. He guessed they'd hit six miles, and he felt like he'd been running a bit faster than usual, and his muscles and lungs began to ache. He pressed on, letting the light breeze at his back carry him forward in defiance of his body urging him to stop.

"My thermoregulatory abilities are far more efficient than humans," she stated. "My power core is capable of sustaining significantly higher speeds at higher environmental temperatures and humidity for far longer periods of time before showing signs of thermoregulatory failure."

"So… you'll sweat if y-you… run faster and a lot l-longer?" John managed to say. He pumped back his arms to give himself a little boost.

"That is partially correct. However, I will not sweat profusely. My body does not possess large quantities of excess water."

"So… how do you c-cool… yourself then?"

Cameron looked over at him, while still maintaining her pace, and gave him a stoic look. "You don't want to know."

The teenager debate pressing the issue but then he noticed Cameron was two steps in front of him. She'd maintained a perfect side-by-side position with him since they'd begun.

_What the hell? Is she racing me?_ He questioned. He sped up and matched her. Then she was two steps in front of him again. He sped up a second time. She and he repeated this maybe six, seven more times.

"Man bro' she's beatin' you good!" John heard another jogger yell as he approached.

"Yeah, yeah," John shot back, dismissing the other guy. If only he knew what was under there.

After a half mile of running through the park playing 'Chase the Cyborg' John was finally giving in to exhaustion as his muscles began demanding more oxygen than his lungs could supply. Cameron, who was still in front of him slowed down as well without even having to look back, her sensors alerting her to John's decreasing speed.

She twirled around, the pony tail she'd tied her hair into flopping over her shoulder.

"Did I win?" She asked.

John looked at her quizzically.

"Win? Were we playing a game?" John managed to ask between breaths as his body tried with all its tired effort to oxygenate his muscles. He had his hands on his knees and was hunched over.

"John, you should stand up, it is better than bending down because you may cramp," Cameron reminded him dutifully. John was going to remain hunched over, but he could already feel the cramps. Gritting his teeth he stood up. When he did so, he saw a small lip smile. "And yes. I increased my speed, you attempted to match and surpass mine. You attempted this for point six two miles. Many would classify that as an undeclared contest."

The future leader of mankind grunted. He admitted that yeah, it had been a contest. "Sure… you win…" he declared as he grabbed his shirt and started pulling it back and forth to fan himself.

"Thank you." John noticed she hesitated, but wanted to say something else. "It is almost eleven thirty."

"Hm… wait, so it's almost eleven thirty in how many seconds," he grinned.

Cameron cocked her head. "It is now exactly eleven thirty… and two seconds. There is a hot dog stand behind us a quarter mile if you want lunch."

"I didn't bring any money," he said reluctantly. Bringing his hand to his stomach, he did feel that common pang of hunger, and he swore his stomach growled at that exact moment just to spite him. Last night he'd thrown in a pepperoni Hot Pocket into the microwave and then stalked back up to his room.

Walking back and forth he kept his eyes on Cameron, not needing to cool down or stretch, standing there idly, patiently waiting, and watching him and the others run by. He knew she got nervous, or whatever killer robots from the future got, when he was out in wide open spaces like this.

She'd wanted to buy him a treadmill so he could run in the basement… which he considered a nice gesture, or a tactically sound one. He'd declined… something about running in the basement with blood on the walls (which his mother refused to cover) was a bit too freaky creepy for him. Just thinking about it now sent a shiver down his back in the seventy-degree weather.

"So… what to do now?" John wondered aloud, blowing out between his lips and looking off into the interior of the park, looking at but over the shoulder of his machine protector.

Cameron slowly reached into a hidden pocket in the inside of her waistband and pulled out a $20 bill. She held it up, with her look on her face like it was a treasure, or some devious secret between the two of them she was excited to reveal.

Ten minutes later after waiting in a line which seemed way too long for a park hot dog stand, John had his hotdog and a bottle of water. Cameron had one as well, plus her own bottle of water. He was surprised she'd actually spoken up right before he could say 'No, that's all,' when the vendor asked him if he wanted anything else.

They'd found a spot on the grass, and with a long, tired groan John sat down and propped his back against a tree with a thud. Cameron, in her machine precision, crossed one leg over the other and lowered herself until she sat cross legged facing John. He figured it was to watch for threats behind him.

John finished his hot dog fairly quickly then snapped open the seal on the water bottle and took a long swig. Trying to drink too much at once, he took a large gulp and started coughing and choking, and ended up dribbling water all over his shirt.

"Damnit," he muttered, wiping off his chin with a swipe from the back of his hand. He looked over at Cameron, who was looking at him, but her eyes were fixed passed him, scanning. That little something he'd felt at the house started to peck at him again. John couldn't help but think that a human girl would have laughed at his little display drooling display.

He looked back out into the park and people-watched for a minute before noticing her hot dog had only one, maybe two small bites nibbled from it.

"Are you going to finish that?" He asked, eyes arching as he eyed the presumably psuedo-meat product inside a soggy bun his machine protector was holding delicately in hand.

"No. But if we are going to return to the house in a timely manner, John, extra food may upset your stomach. It will be less of a challenge for me to win another race," she said in her typical, matter-of-fact monotone.

Again, John thought a human girl would have at least smiled or done something. She made a potentially fun challenge (as fun as it was to race a cyborg) sound dull and boring.

He shrugged as he refocused on the food and casually reached over for the hot dog. "Thanks, Cameron," he said with a bit of sardonic undertones.

He wasn't going to let good food… well, food, go to waste. One, two, three big bites and it was gone. He thought he spied a flash of annoyance on Cameron's face at his disregard for her advice.

Wiping his face and taking a long, but careful drink out of his water bottle he smacked his lips and stretched out. He had a nice rest, and he figured it was probably a bit past noon at the moment.

Looking around the park he furled his brown and frowned. Most of the park patrons were either young adults, office workers out for lunch, or people other than teenagers who were _supposed_ to be in school. He felt a bit out of place.

"We should get back to the house," John declared, setting his hands on his hips and focusing his gaze back out of the park, down the long boulevard, and squinting to see if he could see the house from the park. "We've got what… like six miles to go?"

His cyborg protector used her hands to push herself up, and she scooped up her trash and handed it to John. "Yes, like six miles to go," she said. Without thinking John took the trash from her and walked over and tossed it into a bin. Cameron was following up behind him. "But you just ate two hot dogs. You may vomit."

Cameron was, in truth, less concerned about his physical state and more concerned about his mental well-being. An upset stomach was a minor inconvenience. A troubled mind was something else entirely. As she looked at John throw the trash away the burning, permanent image of him sitting in his room after his gun had 'accidentally' discharged flashed through her neural net. She felt the anticipation and dread as she'd leapt up the stairs with Sarah and Derek.

Sarah and Derek, she remembered with a clarity only a machine could posses, had pulled their guns. They'd thought someone had shot John, some intruder. Before Cameron had even landed one foot on the floor as she rushed to John's room she had known the gunshot was not some attacker, but his own… there had been no one with him. It had just been him. Alone.

The trash fell from John's hand as Cameron watched, the entire memory raced through her neural net at such a speed the world had literally slowed to a crawl from Cameron's perception.

As John turned Cameron noticed a tiredness in his eyes she hadn't seen since she'd jumped back from 2027. It was a tiredness which was brought on by loss which she had watch cascade into antipathy and loathing.

The look bothered Cameron. She had heard John cry to himself over Riley's death in bursts and fits, with the occasional fist or some other object being driven into the wall. Sarah had asked Cameron if John cried in the future. She has dodged the question.

The only concern John had shown Cameron was over Riley's body the night after returning to LA. That question had only been followed with a 'did you take care of it'? Cameron had nodded in the affirmative and simply mimicked his question, changing the wording into a statement.

She'd taken the body deep into the desert, dug a deep hole to prevent scavenging animals from appearing, and then put the body in. There was no ceremony, no wake, and no witnesses.

Cameron had then begun her elaborate charade to fool Riley's foster parents into believe she were still alive.

She had called them from Las Vegas and told them she, posing as Riley, had appreciated everything they had done for her. She had said she just wanted to get away from it all and experience life, a faster-paced life than she had been living in the suburbs of LA. She had then carefully crafted a doctored image of Riley with a pair of random people Cameron had photographed and emailed the images to the foster parents from a new Gmail account and a laptop.

Cameron had rented a long-term storage locker and stored the cellphone and laptop and was planning to return to Las Vegas in approximetly fifteen days time and then again shortly after the New Year to continue the charade.

The memory and plan distracted Cameron long enough for her to noticed the change in John's mood. She knew John cared about people, even if he didn't show it. People were John's problem. He cared.

John looked past her with what she saw as the calculating stare of the General and stopped a few feet behind her. "Well…" he shrugged, "think of it as training." Looking back he saw Cameron's head tilt. "In the future, to my understanding, you can't tell the terminator to give you a minute while you stretch out and digest, right? What if I need to run?"

Cameron was about to answer, but he bolted away from her.

Smirking, Cameron tilted her head and chin into her chest. Future John doesn't live here, this John does, she thought, then lunged after him.

"How… how far are we from the house, Camer-" John struggled and staggered into a half-crouch, and then threw up. He threw one hand up onto the back of a bench and stepped into the grass behind a bus stop and threw up. The other hand on his knee he bent down and gagged at seeing his own vomit, then threw up again.

"We're point nine-two miles from the house, John," Cameron answered. She was standing behind him with a passive look on her face, her hands hanging loose at her sides. To a casual passer-by they may have thought she was perversely intrigued by a young man vomiting.

John picked up on the little bit of stress she placed on the distance and chuckled slightly. He wrinkled his nose at the taste of vomit in his mouth and, swooshed his tongue around, then spit twice to get the remnant taste and chunks of hotdog out.

Smacking his lips, then licking them he had to spit again. A sour look washed over his face as he glanced sheepishly over at Cameron. "It tastes pretty bad coming up."

"I warned you," Cameron said, a little bit of a friendly taunt lacing the statement. But still, her gaze was passive and her eyes glassy.

"Bah," John swung his hand down and out, like he was trying to throw her words back at her. "It's training, right?"

"It is highly unlikely you would have evaded future terminators over a distance of nearly five miles, John."

"Yeah… but if you're with me," he panted, still trying to catch his breath from the racing and the vomiting, "you could just carry me and run away, right?"

Cameron tilted her head and looked at John. John, looking at her, thought it was her customary tilt-when-confused mannerism. But this one was different. It was more of that's-just-stupid sort of head tilt and look.

She also felt a sudden surge in her neural net at the implication he wanted her around for some time.

"Come on," he motioned with his head for her to follow him.

The two walked quietly for about ten minutes, John still smacking his lips, trying to get the second taste of hotdogs and ketchup out of his mouth, and Cameron just walked next to him. Usually she would walk with a foot or so between her and John, but he kept noticing every couple minutes her shoulder would brush up against his.

"Cameron… did you.. uh…" he didn't want to ask, but he had to. And he didn't think there would be any better time than now. He was relaxed, for the most part, and outside. He wasn't going to get mad and storm off like he had the day they were buying computers (the day Cromartie almost killed him the second time, at the pier he recalled). But he needed to know. "What did uh… what, uh, what did you do with Riley's body," he asked quietly, looking down at the pavement.

Cameron could go into details, with the specifics of how far into the desert she drove, where she buried the body, going to Las Vegas, but she decided a simple answer was the best answer.

"I went to the desert and buried her body, John."

"I should have been there."

"I'm sure she's in a better place, John," Cameron answered slowly.

He stopped and put his hand on her forearm. She stopped just as suddenly. As a machine, she didn't feel discomfort or embarrassment around others. But the way John was staring at her…

"Are you saying that to make me feel better, or do you actually believe it?" He asked, tightening his grip on her arm.

In the nanosecond she processed possible answers, she considered that she could fool humans into believing her. Her vocalizer could synthesize the necessary vocal tones and pitch which her detailed psychological files told her had a positive, trustworthy affect on humans. She controlled her facial muscles with such a precision she could make herself appear as if she truly, genuinely believed what she was saying and fool anyone.

She didn't want to fool John.

"Actually," John held up his hand, "I don't want an answer… not yet anyway. I know her soul's in a better place."

Something then happened John wasn't expecting. Cameron brought her other hand up and put it over the hand he was still using to grab her forearm. She squeezed it once then let go.

"I know, too, John," she said. She didn't have to modulate her vocalizer for false sincerity. She believed that. As much as Cameron had seen Riley as a 'threat' he had still cared for her, and she had accepted that he cared for her.

Cameron understood that Riley had been his only connection to normalcy.

Slowly, he released her arm and turned without saying a word. Cameron was walking a few steps behind him, unsure if she should walk next to him. She'd seen John's shock when her hand had gone up and squeeze his. Her neural net CPU hadn't even registered the action of her hyperalloy arm moving up, and her servos flexing her fingers in to squeeze until her hand was already in motion.

A machine built for the death of humans, a terminator, was trying to comfort the one who would lead the fight to exterminate the other, the machines.

The irony was not lost on either of them.

As they passed street vendors they turned into the residential areas, and quickly the sounds of zooming cars decreased until there was a slight hum.

And unexpectedly, this time for Cameron, John slowed down his pace ever so subtly until he was again walking shoulder to shoulder with Cameron.

She focused her system resources on her facial muscles, the servos which controlled her posture and gait, and her CPU directed her chassis, with incredibly precision to keep walking as if John's act meant nothing. As if she hadn't noticed. She couldn't let him see the effect he was having. Not now.

* * *

||||||||||==Mexico==||||||||||

"Damnit, Sarah, why didn't we bring the Tin Can?" Derek complained, wiping sweat from his eyes. He blinked twice, hard, to get the salt out before his eyes started burning. Squinting, he looked at his green shirt, which was covered in dirt and dust. "Damnit," he muttered. Using his shirt would just get more crap in his eyes.

He stood up and turned his back to the sun. He started blinking again as hard as he could, and finally got the sweat and salt out of his bloodshot eyes. Sarah stopped digging and half leaned and half collapsed into the side of the pit. Her clothes were probably twice as dirty as his. Derek looked her over and nodded. She certainly was the mother of the Future Leader of Mankind. He saw the determination in her he'd seen in The General in the future.

Not so much in John Connor recently, who'd been acting more like John Baum these last few months.

_I thought the kid really stepped up at Presidio with Bedell… but after that, it's been one let down after another,_ he said to himself, taking in a deep breath to let his muscles relax.

"Come on, Reese, no stopping," she commanded, jumping back up to dig. "John needs some time. And someone needs to protect him."

"He's too close to the machine."

Sarah scoffed at that. Not wanting to start an argument she just brought the shoulder up and jabbed it into the drying ground under her feet. Raising it again, she let out her frustration with everything by jamming it back down a second, then a third time.

"Ignoring me isn't going to work, Sarah," Derek pointed out, moving closer and standing over her. He jammed his shoulder into the dirt and took a half step closer again.

She kept the shovel lodged in the ground, but started wiggling it free. "I'd move, Reese, or you're going to get this in your face when I bring it back up."

"Whatever. Riley was a distraction, Sarah. He still looked-"

She threw the shovel down, letting it bounce back up on the dirt and into the wall of the pit. "Derek, I think I know my son. He's close to the machine, even with Riley, I saw that. But he hasn't… he hasn't… held a gun up to any of us for it recently… has he? Plus you're barely there anymore."

Derek stuck out his finger and pointed at Sarah. "Exactly… I can see it because I'm not there all the time." _And Jesse has told me a lot about it and him_, he thought.

With the noon sun beating down on Sarah, and her shirt already dirty and wet from sweat, the last thing she wanted to do was argue.

"Just dig, Reese. We have a long drive back."

She wasn't sure if what she'd said was an invitation to bring the topic up again because there was a long ride back to talk about it, out of the heat and with some AC, or to drop it because it'd just be an uncomfortable silence and awkward tension on the long drive back.

A few more shovels of dirty and… and nothing. Her heart skipped, but Sarah controlled herself and took another shovel full of dirt. She let out a long held breath when she spotted the tip of Cromartie's boot. She reached down, and easily pulled the boot out.

"No, no, no," she said frantically. She began digging all over the place and ramming the shovel into the ground to feel any resistance, anything that might indicate a body. Nothing.

"Where the hell is he?" Derek asked. "He didn't just get up. John destroyed the chip. He smashed it into a thousand pieces. He smashed it. This isn't right," Derek kept saying, silently hoping if he kept repeating how this didn't make sense the body would appear.

"There's only one person who would be… stupid enough, crazy enough to do this… to, to dig the body up," Sarah managed to spit out between the heavy breaths of anger. "Let's go."

* * *

||||||||||==Los Angeles==|||||||||||

John and Cameron had walked the rest of the way back to their secluded neighborhood in relative silence. A few awkward coughs from John, a brush on the shoulder, and Cameron quickly turning her head to scan the street and behind them to avert John's glances were the highlights (or more accurately, awkward moments) of their journey along the suburban streets of the Calabasas Highlands

The pair lazily rounded the block corner which put them on their street and right in from of Kacy's house.

John looked up and sighed and hoping if he hesitated their house at the top of the hill would somehow lower itself, and he wouldn't have to trudge up the long driveway. Their house in the Calabasas Highlands was fairly private and 'secluded' for a suburban home in America's second largest city. Looking up John wished for a moment they were back in the old safe house, even if it was in a rough neighborhood before looking over at Cameron.

He heard a vibration, and saw Cameron crack open her cell phone.

_Where the hell was she keeping that?_ John asked himself.

The machine protector flipped the clam shell phone up and checked the ID code, then typed in her own pass code.

"Yes… John's here with me. We were outside… we're walking back to the house now, we're at Kacy's… yes… yes, I understand. We'll find him right away, Sarah."

John had stopped and was watching Cameron as she slid the phone back into a small pocket on her tiny pair of shorts.

"Was that mom?"

Cameron took a moment.

"Yes… John… please do not over react and allow me to finish my entire statement," Cameron said quickly and then abruptly stopped. She waited until John shifted his weight and crossed his arms. He was ready. "Your mother and Derek could not find Cromartie's body and they believe Ellison may have taken it."

John nodded. Cameron waited… and was impressed he was not overreacting to the situation. Cromartie's chip was smashed, and he had no backup chips in his other ports. John Baum overreacts. John Connor does not. The electrical signals flowing through her neural net were very similar to human pride. She was glad he was not overreacting. He was ahead of where he needed to be.

"Then we'll shower up and grab some guns and go to Ellison's house," John avowed. "If he's betrayed us…"

Cameron's motion sensors detected an approaching contact from behind.

"Hi John, Cameron!" A loud voice shouted from behind them.

They both turned when they heard the sound of Kacy Corbin yelling out to greet them and entrap them in neighborly chit-chat. Relaxing his stance John let his arms fall to his side and turned and offered a 'neighborly' wave to Kacy. He forced a fake smile he knew the always sunny and beaming woman wouldn't pick up up.

John did appreciate her friendliness. She was probably the first neighbor who had actually talked to them, and with a little more effort, John would have realized she was the _only_ one to have talked to them.

He looked off to the side, seeing a few houses which lined the main street. The neighbors from those houses seemed to conveniently 'forget' there was a house down the road and up the hill. Whatever.

John Connor turned to Cameron with a lop-sided grin, in case Kacy could see, and bobbed his head for her to follow him.

"Where have you two been?" She asked, smile wide as ever. She was rubbing her back, which she'd told them still hurt after delivering the baby a few months back. She and Trevor had named the boy Dell Trevor Corbin. "Oh, I know," she snapped her finger, "Pretty pink top, short shorts," she winked at Cameron, "and you John in your tee shirt, shorts, and running shoes, all sweaty… out running? And look at your sister, not a drop on her."

Cameron smiled, too wide, and John nudged her.

"Yeah, just trying to stay fit and all… Cameron used to run cross country, natural runner and all back in the Midwest. She can run circles around me," John said, trying his best to be neighborly, a skill he critically lacked. He looked at Cameron. "She never seems to get tired at anything she does."

"Bah… I'm still trying to lose all this baby weight. But hey," Kacy said sounding excited, "at least I don't look like a whale anymore. Now just a porpoise," she winked again and laughed and patted her stomach. "The baby daddy got me a gym membership… but I don't know if I should be happy at how it was sweet or a little ticked about what he's implying…" she grinned mycheiviously.

"You do not look fat," Cameron stated suddenly.

John bit down on his lip trying to keep from smiling at Cameron's statement. Kacy wasn't the size of a porpoise, but she still had the baby weight. Cameron's now blank expression changed to confusion when Kacey began to laugh.

"Uh… thanks, I think. But I don't look skinny either," she pouted. "Kidding… hey! Trevor… you know it's always on again off again with him, but whatever, he's being a good baby daddy, child support, coming in as much as he can… we might get married, might not, who knows… but anyway," Kacy said with a prolonged shrug, focusing back on her main point, "we're having a dinner. A few of my friends from work, a couple from Trevor's station and if you two and you mom and uncle are interested…?"

John nodded automatically at the invitation, buying a few precious section for his mind began quickly formulating a means to get his family out of this. The'd used 'business trips' and 'family vacations' as excuses before… and even John realized those excuses were getting a bit pathetic.

The eclectic household of time displaced humans, a machine, and a soldier from the future made for an odd mix and Sarah and Derek were adamant about not being friendly with the neighbors. Yet unfriendly neighbors is what got people talking, like they had some deep dark secret (and how true that was).

John breathed in through gritted teeth and looked down at the ground, hoping his machine protector would jump in to save the day again. He looked over, swaying forward on back on his feet, smiling and nodding at Cameron. She said nothing. Defeat in his eyes, he answered his kind and perky neighbor.

"I can definitely ask them. My mom and uncle have business out of state coming up for a week or so," John answered, lying.

Their cover story was that they both worked from home, doing vague 'consulting' work over the internet and teleconferencing. When they left, it was for 'business.'

He quickly resigned himself to the fact he may have to spend an evening with Kacy and Trevor. It's not that he didn't want to, because he did like Kacy, and he had met Trevor once. To John, he seemed like a nice guy; respectable, a straight shooter, moral. He and Cameron might have to take one for the Connor family.

"But yeah," John shrugged and continued, bringing his hand up to rest on his forearm, "if you give us a call or something or see us just let me or Cameron know and we'll pass it on." He perked up his voice to sound sincere.

"Excellent!" Kacy declared loudly with a broad smile. "Now, I have to go, baby and all that," she held up a baby monitor and shook it. "Trevor got this… it has a camera built in and he set up a wi-fi router so I can see my baby and hear him, even if I have to go outside… oh, and that reminds me why I am outside." She put her hand on John's chest. "Your cousin is a very nice young man. I saw him coming up about an hour ago, and he came down when no one was home. But he and I were talking and I walked him back up and gave him some water, since it's so hot for a November."

While she was talking her baby monitor sounded and she looked down and she missed the worried glares exchanged between the two.

"Which cousin?" Cameron asked, knowing John's voice would probably quiver if he asked. She tilted her head and took a step forward. "Which cousin, we have a couple," she asked, trying to put on a happy face.

"Yes, he said he's from your dad's side. He's been in college… like I said, very nice and very handsome. If I were ten years younger… but anyway, I've held you up. He was sitting up on the patio waiting. I told him he could wait with me here, but he insisted. Something about a long travel, time lag… coming in from a different time zone I guess, east coast" she shrugged again, completely oblivious to the ramification of a 'cousin' and 'time lag.'

Kacy didn't know she'd created an awkward moment between her and her two young neighbors nor did she know she had inadvertently set off a mental crisis in John and kicked Cameron's threat assessment protocols into overdrive.

Cameron looked over at John to tell silently tell him she would check it out, find out who was invading their home, and deal with the threat. But John was standing there composed, stoic even. He hadn't given Kacy any indication of the anxiety she had induced in the young future general.

"Oh, sorry… gotta go. Duty calls," Kacy said over a piercing wail from the baby monitor, giving them one last smile. She gave John a soft pat on the side of the arm, maybe a subtle indication she knew something was wrong, then turned back onto the front walk, passed her well-manicured bushes, and back into the cooled house.

John watched her until she went into her house, and until he could hear the low click of a door lock. Cameron was already staring up the drive, her eyes narrowing.

John looked down and could see both her hands, her fingers, which curled naturally like a human's hand to blend in, were balling up and twitching into fists.

She put her hand on John's chest and could feel the rise in his heart rate. Even through his shirt she could feel the chemicals running through his body which indicated a heightened state of alert. She could even feel his body shake as John took her hand off of his, aware she was scanning him. He turned to face her.

Cameron knew the look of Future John. The one where his eyes seem to glaze over, yet at the same time, focus on the objective. Where his shoulders moved slightly backwards and he pulled himself to his full height. The machine could see the slight fasciculations in the young general's cheek.

There was someone in their home and it was waiting for them.

* * *

AN: Thank you all for reading the first three chapters. I decided to post them to get a bit more into how the story will progress.

This is going to be going very, very AU from this point out. I also hope Riley's death was okay. I never really liked the character but thought she got a bad rap.

Is this a "Jameron" story... well, there will be definite John and Cameron interactions and their relationship does move forward. I like the more subtle approach to their relationship.

The next chapter I shall post on Wednesday, probably in the afternoon. This entire story is basically finished and I plan on updating once every five days or so.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

John had been following behind Cameron, right on her heels. It was safer for him to be near her than away from her. She had flipped open her clam-shell style phone and had pressed the speed dial for Sarah, knowing Derek was still with her, but John had put his hand softly on top of her before she could hit the green 'send' button.

He asked her not to call.

He said the two of them would handle it.

With a tilt of her head, slightly confused of this course of action and the display of personal contact from John, she'd used her index finger to flip closed the mobile phone.

While John saw her actions as casual he knew there was more to them than the nonchalant way in which she carried them out.

In another act which confused her, for which she would run a diagnosis later, she handed him her phone, holding it out as an offering, until he took it. It was just in case.

During the slow, methodical walk up the drive Cameron devoted a small portion of her immense processing power to analyzing what John had just done. He'd asked in, commanded her in a soft, almost pleading tone and this had spooked Cameron. Or what she thought humans would consider being 'spooked' as. Running the feeling through her neural net, it was most similar to being made aware of a new mission variable suddenly appearing while executing a mission after many hours of careful planning.

Yes… it is like a sudden variable interfering with a mission… that is what being 'spooked' is, Cameron ran through her neural net.

She and John walked forward lightly now, watching their steps to crunch as little gravel as they could beneath their feet..

To John and Cameron both, the crunch crunch crunch of the driveway's gravel was ear-shatteringly loud. It was a perfect speedometer, telling them they were walking too slowly but also telling them they were walking too quickly.

The cyborg's steps were much light, and to John, it was like she were walking on air. He didn't understand how Cameron, weighing slightly more than him, could walk without a sound.

The Future Leader of Mankind knew if Cameron considered this 'cousin' a threat, it would have almost been impossible for him to follow her. He had considered ordering him to allow him to follow, but she 'didn't take orders' from him. So as the Future Leader he had pled his case and used some of the cold reasoning skills he believed Future John would possess.

_'Why would a machine talk with Kacy? He'd kill her to remove witness, right Cameron?' John had asked a minute before. 'It wouldn't wait for us and let her leave and maybe warn us or anything, I guess. If it were a Skynet terminator it could just plant a bomb at our house or wait covertly. We'd never know it killed Kacy and was waiting for us. I think this 'cousin' of ours is friendly… remember the person who left the message on the wall? He was Resistance, he knew where we lived. No one else did.'_

_'Your hypothesis is sound, John,' Cameron had replied quick and to the point. Then she'd relented and allowed him to move forward with her._

He didn't know if Cameron realized it, and a part of him was hoping she would and another part that she wouldn't, but he was grateful for her not telling him to run.

They rounded a corner up the drive, and Cameron noted that this was the exact spot in which, from the second floor, she could see someone beginning to approach, or see someone leave before turning the corner out of sight. She'd marked the location in her neural net and late one night had spread a slightly off-colored gravel so close to the original color, human eyes could never tell the difference.

The spot was also next to the weathered retaining wall, where an overflow of water had pushed dirt over the ledge of the bricks and stained the wall with a dirty brown streak which had formed like an upside down triangle as the water had condescend and flowed onto the drive way.

Even without these markers Cameron knew this spot intimately.

It was how far she had watched Riley a week ago until she had turned and gone to John's room.

The view of the patio was still obscured by thick bushes and semi-neglected landscaping, and the two still couldn't see signs that anyone had been there. She switched to IR, but from where she was she couldn't see the bottom of the patio steps. This was beginning to worry Cameron, and she began second-guessing herself over and over, until the repetition had occupied millions of cycles of her neural net. Her motion detectors had revealed nothing; if there was a person they were perfectly still. And various objects blocked her suite of optical scanners.

Cameron ran her optics at higher resolutions and filtered out the ambient background light to scan the individual. This man was six foot, one inch with light brown hair and blue eyes. His physical features appeared to be Anglo-Saxon or at least western European in ethnicity, and he seemed athletic. His face was squarer shaped, clean shaven, with short cut brown hair

She ran an overlay of T-888 endoskeletal points, and a negative match appeared on her HUD and neural net. There were no obvious weapons budges in either the khaki cargo parts this person wore or under the black collared shirt he had on.

"John, please stay back." Cameron cautioned with a dedicated, determined tone. She sidestepped ever so subtly to put herself at a better position in front of John to protect him.

"Who is it, do you know him?" John asked quickly.

"He does not match any files in my data base of known Resistance or Tech Com soldiers. And if he is a terminator, his endoskeleton does not match any previous series design."

They were both standing there, staring at the other, who was also standing and staring back at them.

John looked at Cameron out of the corner of his eye and back at the strange, who stood rigid and stiff. If it wasn't a machine, he'd be surprised. He saw the stranger blink, but even that could just be the infiltration protocols. Cameron blinked, Uncle Bob had… John bit down as he ran his eyes up and down, inspecting the stranger and trying to find any evidence, anything solid, that he was man or machine.

"So what do we do? Kacy said he was from my father's side of the family." John whispered.

He looked at Cameron, still wondering if she knew the truth to his father and Derek.

The words of his mother, about not trusting anyone with the information about who his father was, pounded in his mind as loudly and clearly as if she were there next to him yelling 'Don't trust them, John! You didn't trust them in the future!'

John saw that Cameron had never expressed any curiosity over his father or who he had been. And he'd told her once that he and his mom had adopted Sgt. Kyle Reese's last name to honor his memory in giving his life protecting Sarah.

Cameron had simply nodded and walked away.

"He does not appear to be armed, John. And since he knows the location of this house, much like the resistance member who wrote on the basement wall, it would be a safe assumption that he is friendly. I believe you were correct in your speculation. In such circumstance one would introduce themselves." Cameron stated carefully, in answer to his question

So academic, John snickered to himself. "Alright… if I die I blame you," he said, then snorted behind her when she failed to react. She was in protector mode, or hunter/killer mode, John saw. Nothing could distract her now short of some overt threat to his life.

Cameron would have laughed with him, if her concerns were not elsewhere. A relatively significant portion of her system resources and neural net processing power were being shunted to diagnostics and analyses of John's behavior with a similarly significant portion devoted to analyzing why she had allowed John to accompany her. His actions had been contradictory of a human male who should be grieving the loss of a dear… friend and accompanying her was reckless. John did these things, she remembered.

Overriding the default allocation of system resources she increased the processing power analyzing the scans she was receiving

"Let's go up then." John said, taking a step to get in front of Cameron. But her hand shot out and forced him back.

"We will. But stay behind me, John." I can't allow anything more to happen to you.

They walked up slowly, carefully counting each heel to toe step, until they were ten feet from the stranger.

A soft wind kicked up, and the stranger stood there for a moment, still and silent. John could see the stranger's eyes running over them both, measuring them up, taking in the situation. The teenager tried to read the stranger's eyes, but saw nothing.

"Sir," a strong voice sounded, surprising John. He looked up and the man had locked his eyes forward, pushed out his chest, and was standing almost at attention. "Captain John Alexander Planck, 2nd Special Forces Operational Division-Alpha detachment, Tech Com."

At these words John's eyebrows reflexively arched as he ran the words through his mind.

The man, Captain John Alexander Planck, stood straight and tall, and John saw he easily had four, maybe five inches on him. He stood like a soldier from the future, or what John assumed a future soldier would stand like; confident in their abilities yet with wariness, caution, and unease that death could be right around the corner.

Derek had often told him that few future soldiers thought of anything other than surviving. The brutal battlefields of California, and the world, meant soldiers from the future tried to live their lives day-by-day, survive today and worry about tomorrow when tomorrow came.

John, he noticed there were no scars, no tattoos. Derek had both, on his face and his arms, which were bare on Alex, his shirt sleeve coming to about mid level on his upper arm. Looking him up and down quickly he could tell Alex did appear malnourished, undernourished, or any variant thereof. He didn't have the sunken eyes like his uncle, or the other resistance fighters he'd seen pictures of. And he wasn't emaciated, like the resistance fighter who had died in their living wound. He looked athletic, like he was right out of college, just as Kacy had said.

While all this was circumstantial, the most definitive aspect of the visual inspection were their eyes. Cromartie's had been pure, driven evil, Carter's uncaring and focused, and Cameron's… he hadn't figured her out yet.

There was a common theme in both Comartie and Carter; uncaring lifelessness. With less than a minute having passed since the soldier had introduced himself he could tell he cared… but there was no life behind the eyes.

"You're a machine," John said, after nearly a minute of silence between the three. He could see Cameron looking over, a glint of approval in her eye. He knew she'd figured it out, probably as soon as the 'Captain Alex Planck' had introduced itself.

"That is correct, General Connor. I am a machine."

* * *

John was always surprised at how comfortable he was around the machines. It also wasn't because his current protector looked like an attractive young woman, either.

He wasn't oblivious to the fact he and his mother did not see eye to eye on this very issue. They really didn't even see in the same dimension concerning the machines. Her first experience with a machine had been with one hunting her. His first had been one saving him. His second had been one trying to save him.

His experiences with the machines had been so different from his mother's, and that was why he could sit with a machine and not feel threatened by it, or put his faith in them enough and reactive Cameron after she had tried to kill him.

"Do you eat?" John asked, taking a bite from a half sandwich Cameron had made him. She was standing next to him at the head of the table, really more like between him and Alex. Just in case.

Two hot dogs had not been enough at lunch, especially with a ten mile run, and even more so after throwing them both back up.

He put the turkey sandwich down and used a napkin to wipe off a little smudge of mustard and pepper on the side of his face as he waited for the answer.

"I prefer not to," Alex responded dryly.

John took another lazy bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly and thinking. After the initial trepidation on discovering a new machine was not here to kill him, he'd been excited to learn more about the future. That line of questioning had been a quick, bitter disappointment for the teen. Alex's answers had been short, almost curt in their tone, and vague.

He wondered if all machines were like that. Their logic and reasoning was entirely different than humans… something obvious to them could be oblivious to a human.

"So… why did I name you John? Seems a little weird," John asked.

"You didn't. My friends call me Alex, the name I prefer, sir," the machine replied.

"You can relax," John said to his female machine protector. "Cameron," he looked up, "I don't think you have to stand there. If he wanted to kill me he probably would have done it already." He turned back to face the machine, his chair groaning under his shifting weight. The machine claimed to be a captain in Tech Com. Cameron, John had guessed, didn't even have a rank. How did this machine? When did machines even get rank?

Cameron, cautious as ever, moved over to John's left. Instead of sitting down she grabbed a chair and positioned it where she had been standing. It gave her plenty of room to jump between the two, and she could watch the driveway for Sarah and Derek.

"Why did I send you back?" Was the question John finally asked.

"I will have to answer these questions again once Ms. Connor and Lieutenant Reese return, sir," Alex responded.

John started laughing, but used his hand to cover up his mouth, but still, he couldn't stop. Cameron looked on inquisitively, and Alex was perplexed at what was so funny. Both Cameron and Alex also exchanged the same look.

"You're a captain, right? So does… does… that mean Derek, a lieutenant, would, would… have to take orders from… you?" John asked between fits.

"You told me yes. But you were grinning when you said it, implying you were not being serious. You then said it didn't matter, because he wouldn't," Alex told him in a dull monotone. "I am also not the only one from Alpha to be sent back. I was sent first, and we were planning on sending back others from my detachment for a permanent team here."

"Team," John interrupted, holding up his hand and leaning forward. He ran that word through his mind. His 'future self' had sent Derek's team back as support. Would this be different?

He let the word echo in his mind for a minute. If there was a 'team' he knew his mom and Derek would be livid, but with a 'team' they could hunt Skynet like they had never been capable of doing before. It was exciting. He pursed his lips at that thought… it would probably be far more dangerous than exciting if there were multiple terminators living here.

"Yes, sir. Alpha is one of the numerous detachments-"

"Of machines…?" John interrupted again and trailed off.

"Yes sir, machines. They were established in early 2026 and after my construction I was placed first in SFOD-Echo in July 2026 and was moved to command SFOD-Alpha in December 2028 after the death of its previous commander."

"Death? So humans were on the team?" John asked.

"No, sir, they were all-machine teams from commanders to front line soldiers."

_Interesting,_ John thought.

"Why would I do that?"

"Our missions were high risk and high priority operations- we're stronger, faster, more agile and coordinate our action to a degree no human can… we can act as a single unit." Alex saw John look down and think that over for a moment. "Alpha had been involved in everything from sabotage, reconnaissance, search and rescue, small unit assaults, diplomatic escort, assassinations and many other activities, sir. We were also tasked with your protection and the protection of high ranking Tech Com officers when leaving headquarters."

"So you knew… uh, Future Me?"

"Yes."

"What year are you from?"

"I am from 2033."

John's shoulders fell and he leaned back and slumped in his chair. "Great, so that means-" He didn't finish when his phone vibrated, moving precariously close to the edge of the table. "It's mom," he informed Cameron. She nodded once then fixed her eyes back on Alex.

Cameron felt a tingle in her neural net CPU as she looked towards Alex. She then did something she hadn't in a very long, long time. She opened a wireless communication link with another terminator.

'_It is an honor to meet you in this time period_,' Alex transmitted over to her.

She established a return connection, feeling the data flow from another machine for the first time since returning to the past.

'_Captain, what is your mission here in the past. How do you know me from the future?_' Cameron asked

"Yes mom… yes… no we haven't- wait… mom… listen. Another Resistance fighter came back… yeah. No… I don't think-"

Alex continued to stare forward at John before looking out towards the driveway. He had dampened his hearing to avoid listening in on the conversation, but at the same time, was talking with Cameron over a wireless data connection.

'_My mission is complicated and General Connor left out some details. But our enemies in the future have multiples. There are rogue jumpers, traitors, and Skynet has established itself in the past. Skynet is also different. It seeks to jump start its technological development… it wants an army immediately after Judgment Day_,' Alex explained.

'_What does that mean, exactly, Captain_?' Cameron questioned quickly. Alex's dodge of her question was obvious, and she filed away the question under a 'mission priority- high' folder. But if the machine opposite her would not answer the question at the moment, she would wait until later.

'_I have already been forced to modify my mission. I was conflicted over coming here and seeking your aide, but due to changing circumstances, it is necessary. Skynet is also changing, evolving. It's been learning from its past mistakes. It seeks to close the time loop. General Connor and his allies succeeded in expanding the loop to six years beyond 2027 to 2033. Everyone wishes to end the loop on their terms._'

Cameron looked away and focused towards John and abruptly disconnected the wireless connection, cutting off the conversation. She gave Alex a look while John was distracted. She didn't fully trust him, and Alex knew that. She didn't have to deny any other transmissions, which was reassuring to the cyborg protector. It meant the captain would respect the wishes of others.

"-Derek knows the person… no, he's from the future, Derek's future… past 2027… how long? Um… a couple of years. Listen, mom… listen. I'll talk to you… you're pulling up? So why did you call if you were almost home?"

Annoyed at the revelation his mom was calling to check on him- typical overbearing mother he thought- when on the verge of pulling up to the driveway, John said a quick 'bye' and hung up the phone with a brisk flip of his wrist. John absently tossed the phone onto the table, watching it glide towards Cameron and spin until she stopped it with her index finger.

He knew his mother hated being hung up on, ignored. So the 'bye' was to show a little bit of respect while still being defiant of her wishes. He didn't want her to 'spaz out' (he couldn't remember if he heard that in school, when he was still going, or if it was on TV) over another machine. Today was too nice a day to be stuck inside on the receiving end of a 'I'm Disappointed in You' speech/face down.

John sullenly watched the car pulled into the driveway, Derek pulling ahead past the shed and obsessively putting the car into reverse and swinging it around so the front pointed back out. Quick for an escape, John told himself. All their actions were dictated based on the two maxims of 'escape' and 'run'.

Simultaneously Sarah and Derek both hopped out of the now parked black truck, and John could see Derek swing around the front of the truck with a shotgun being held against his left leg while he kept scanning the long and winedy driveway and the bushes and thick trees surrounding the house.

No one ever came up to the house Kacy. And Riley, John remembered. His eyes closed and he let out a long, stuttered breath as he mentally prepared himself.

"Well, captain, I guess it's time to explain yourself to Ms. Connor and Lieutenant Derek Reese," John said under his breath, mimicking the way the machine had referred to his mom and uncle. He threw his hands onto the table and pushed up, his chair squeaking on the floor as he slid it back. This was going to be either very, very interesting, or very, very bad.

* * *

Uncomfortable silences were common place in the Connor household. Uncomfortable silences with a razor sharp tension which could slice through hyperalloy were becoming even more common in the Connor household.

It was so quiet they could hear a pin drop (the humans).

There were five people; two machines and three humans, all trying to focus on the other four. The humans were forced to blink on occasion, breaking the icy-cold stares they were attempting to emulate.

Sarah was staring, leering, at the new arrival, while sometimes glancing over to Cameron suspiciously. It didn't take a machine with extensive psychological files on humans to notice how Sarah was attempting to link the two, Cameron and Alex, and weave some elaborate, somewhat convoluted plot in which the two machines were somehow plotting together to birth Skynet and usher in the nuclear apocalypse.

Even with this second machine in the house Derek was focused almost exclusively on Cameron, his burning green eyes bearing into her hyperalloy armor, attempting to melt her with a thermite stare.

John was standing opposite Sarah and Derek, with Cameron by his side, and Alex off standing by himself, with Derek and Sarah closer to the door and the stair landing. That put Alex in the door frame leading into the kitchen.

Derek's knuckles were bleach white from the near death-grip he had on his shotgun. He'd have preferred an M203, but at this range the grenade (which wouldn't arm anyway) if it did explode, would probably take out everyone in the room. His Barrett M82, which had saved him, John, and Bedell at Presidio was currently stashed at Jesse's.

"I do have a mission to complete," Alex said, breaking the silence. This is ridiculous, the machine thought. "The longer we stay here… I believe the human expression is 'the colder' the trail will get."

"Tell us again," Sarah ordered softly. Her voice was soft and firm, but slightly raspy from a mild cold she was still getting over. She felt a drop, a small bead of sweat drift down from her temple and tickle her ear.

"I am a machine, Series TK-900. I'm Captain John Alexander Planck, sent back by General Connor to find and aid in the protection of the two individuals responsible for various Skynet technologies, including the initial research for the creation of a temporal displacement event- time travel. They sold their company to Blacklake Aerospace and are previous Nobel Prize winners in the category of-"

Sarah held up her hand with the MP5 to cut him off. "I don't need you to over explain this with a history lesson on whom you're searching for. That can be filled in later, if we decide to help," she waved with her hand to emphasize her point. "So you're not here to protect John? Who do you take orders from? …and I am sure as hell not calling you by my son's name."

"Sarah," Derek said over his shoulder. He finally broke his glare on Cameron and was focusing on Alex. "We shouldn't trust the metal."

He looked back at Sarah, who traded glances with Derek. They were telling each other something without talking, exchanging messages on a personal level, where you knew the other so well, you could tell what they were thinking without having to say a word.

John looked over to the machine, and saw its eyes narrow when Derek had said 'the metal.' And the future leader of mankind swore he saw a scowl before Alex noticed John, and looked back over at the young General.

"John is a common name in the future. Many parents name their sons John to honor of General Connor. My friends call me Alex. I would prefer if you did as well," the new machine replied.

There was a brief silence, punctuated by the soft sound of gritting teeth, a sigh, and a grunt.

"I have many assignments," Alex resumed without prompting answering the first question, "and I have discretion in carrying out those assignments. My primary assignment is to find Dr. Peter Carwin and Dr. Sam Wells and keep them safe from Skynet."

"What does that mean?" John asked. "When you say you have discretion, what do you mean by that?"

"It means I have been given assignments by General Connor but I have been wide latitude in how I choose to accomplish my objectives, sir," he responded to John.

"This is a joke," Derek rasped. He held up his hand, pointing at the machine. "The metal isn't going to tell us anything of value. It just told you exactly what it said before, except it threw in a synonym." Derek rolled his eyes and blew out from closed lips.

John stared at his uncle.

The resistance fighter was exhausted from an all-day trip to Mexico, the sun beating at his back, and the fierce silence and tension which could have cut hyperalloy on the trip back.

Derek looked once at John, already seeing the young 'general' had made up his mind. He went for the metal. Of course, Derek huffed quietly. A quick look over at Sarah told him she was still deciding.

He truly didn't understand. He'd fought the machines from 2011 until being sent back in 2027 and then again in 2007. Derek Reese was just… confused as to why the person with the most experience fighting the machines (he told himself even if he added up Sarah, Cameron, and John together they still didn't have as much experience as he did) was always the one either ignored or the last one to be asked what his opinion was.

He didn't want to think about it anymore and contented himself with letting his head dip to the side and let his eye bear into the new piece of metal standing across from him.

Across the room the young general was left wondering more about his future… or his past, since time seemed to be relative for three of the five people in the room. Past-future-future-past, it was all being muddied and contorted into some twisted reality John was having difficulty understanding.

If he was a great leader, why hadn't he sent someone, or something, back to warn him and protect Riley? Did time travel even work like that? After jumping to 2007 Cameron had been sparse in her explanations of time travel, with many of his questions answered with her '_That's not how it work_s' answer.

John had noticed over the past fifteen months many of his questions were being answered with those words or some variation: 'That's not how it works' or 'That's not how we work' were so common he could hold a conversation with himself and answer his own questions with a variation of those two answers. He knew that's all he would get.

So he'd given up.

It was frustrating.

The future leader of mankind allowed himself to be partially distracted in his thoughts, momentarily mesmerized over his inability to gleam answers from his machine protector. Even Derek Reese, his long lost and previously completely unknown and still enigmatic uncle had told him very little.

For all the machinations and condemnations his uncle made towards the machine, lying, and without information the uncle had revealed little.

He'd noticed the side long glances his uncle had given him, accompanied often by a little smirk or a scowl. All the Connor men had the same green eyes and their emotions showed in them quite clearly. Disappointment, in the eyes of his uncle, flashed regularly.

Right now John brought himself to observe the interplay between his mom and Derek, which was far more interesting to him than analyzing his own problems at the moment.

While Derek may have had disappointment in his eyes when seeing John Connor, or John 'Baum' he jeered. His uncle had assumed he had somehow forgotten he was John Connor and had somehow, inexplicitly adopted his 'Baum' persona. It was just a name. Baum had always been just a name, nothing more.

He realized the only constants in his life knew him as John Connor.

"Derek," Sarah snapped. Her sudden decision to shout at Derek jostled John from his thought. "There's no harm in listening."

"Sure…" the resistance fighter said under his breath, not believing her for a second. They lie, that's what they do, he wanted to remind her.

Derek and Sarah had come back from Mexico sweaty, dirty, and irate. And something else, John was sure, he just couldn't place his finger on it at the moment.

"While I can more than likely find the two scientists on my own, it would be better to have help," Alex said, again breaking the silence. "Our intelligence units reported they will be a Skynet target."

John wondered if his mom and uncle were picking up on the slight, almost non-existent in tone and pitch from the terminator. He had to concentrate a little bit, but he'd seen Cameron annoyed plenty of time and knew how her voice changed ever so slightly. He was hearing that same change from the new arrival.

With terminators he'd seen the single-minded, tunnel vision-like devotion to the mission. Standing between a Terminator and its mission, and more importantly, the successful completion of that mission was very, very dangerous. Or very, very stupid.

"John," Derek said, relaxing his grip on the shotgun, "why do you keep sending back metal? This is getting ridiculous."

John just shot his uncle a bored looked. He didn't even bother to comment that technically he hadn't sent back anyone yet. The question was silly, John told himself, and the answer would just snowball into an argument.

Sending back two machines didn't constitute some sort of habit… well, technically three, John admitted to himself.

Instead of answering, starting an argument (which he knew would end in the inevitable stomping away of one of the offended parties to go and sulk) he just shifted his weight between his feet before taking a step back and leaning back on the dining room table, and propped himself on the edge.

"They help Skynet? So why protect them?" John asked as he ignored his uncle.

"Destroy their research," Sarah opined.

John shook his head. "Off-site storage is a big business now, mom. Its proliferated a lot more than when we torched Cyberdyne. They could have backups in… Tokyo for all we know."

Alex ignored the suggestions.

"The two were General Connor's top scientific advisors and aided Tech Com. Skynet is an extremely powerful and complex AI, but it is not omniscient; it needs individuals outside of its control to… challenge it and propose new ideas. They also helped Tech Com develop new methods to break into Skynet satellites, which were using the communications systems they developed. It was instrumental in counter Skynet's summer offensive in 2025. They also aided in the construction of the TDE."

"But… we used a time machine built from the 60s, so can't a machine just be programmed to build a time machine?"

"That is correct. However, we still do not understand the intricacies of time travel but what we do know is that there are limits to time travel. You termed it 'temporal pollution' in 2029," Alex said as he looked over at John. "Liberal use of time travel results in the destination point being 'smoggy', the analogy you used. As a result of the 'smog' temporal displacement may fail, resulting in sub-quantum feedback loops… the results would be catastrophic- the establishment of a full feedback would result is a seventy-five megaton explosion. We know the mechanics and how to build a time machine but we do not know how it works, not really, nor does anyone truly understand how temporal changes are augmented into the time line and compensated for by the temporal continuity theory Wells and Carwin proposed."

Sarah was listening and absorbing everything that had been said but she needed to talk to the machine without John here and without Cameron here either. But especially John.

"John, Cameron, I need you two to go to Ellison's and see if he has Cromartie's body." She looked over and saw John open his mouth to protest. "John, just do it. We'll all be here when you two get back."

With a heavy sigh John launched himself from the table and told Cameron to follow him. He grabbed the keys and Sarah's eyes followed him and the Tin Miss until they were out the door and into the truck.

"Sit down," she commander the machine.

* * *

|||||||||||==Coronado Island, California==||||||||||

Lacy Carwin considered herself to be a lady, and her mother and grandmother had raised her as such. But right now she felt like anything but a lady.

She was also taught the necessity for schedules. Every morning she would rise at five in the morning with her husband and see him to his car by five-thirty. She would then promptly depart on a run around the island for the next forty-five minutes, followed by fifteen minutes of yoga and a short session of free weights. She was done with her routine every morning at seven sharp and showered and waking the children up for school at seven twenty-five. She would then take the youngest, Pete Junior, to Sacred Heart Parish School then drive Lacy to Coronado High.

Unfortunately, her schedule was broken and in tatters. One night of her husband not returning home was normal. She'd dismissed it as he and Sam goofing around at work, or getting engrossed in some new theory or simulation. When the day rolled by and there was no call, she became irate. Then a second night and another day which turned into a third night and fourth day and no return calls from the company except to say they were out 'on business.'

This morning, the sixth day and seventh night she had yet to see her husband, she broke the first lesson her mother had taught her; be kind. It was the stress. Her and Lacy had gotten into a livid fight, with curse words flying so much the nanny had taken Pete Junior to the opposite end of the house. She couldn't even recall what the argument had been over. But it had ended with Anastasia storming out the back door, bolting through the yard, and hoping the back fence to the neighbor's yard.

While Lacy didn't know where her daughter had vanished off to, she trusted her enough to know she wouldn't do anything self-destructive or dangerous. There were two places her daughter may be; one, the web café she frequented or two, watching the Navy sailors in BUD/S run down the public parts of the beach. Whichever course of action Anastasia had taken, Lacy knew it involved skipping school. And that was unacceptable and she would-

She heard a loud knock-knock at the heavy black doors at the front of the house. Before she could even push herself up from her chair at the kitchen table she heard a second series of raps and then the doorbell chimed, and Lacy had thrown her arms towards the sky in annoyance and frustration at the impatient visitor.

Still, she remembered what her mother and grandmother had taught her; act like a lady. So she took a breath in when she reached the door, breathed out, and composed herself and opened in.

"Yes, may I help you?" She asked, meeting the stare of the man in front of her.

"Mrs. Carwin? Doctor Carwin's wife?" the man asked. He was maybe in his early thirties, tall, 6'2" with close cut dark brown, and a square, strong jaw, and dark brown eyes.

"Yes," she replied curtly.

"I am Special Agent Michael Trader with the FBI." He smiled and flipped her FBI identification before sinking it back into his jacket pocket. "It is a pleasure to meet you ma'am, may I enter?" She stepped back and he came into the foyer with a determined step. "You have quite a lovely home," he complimented. His shoes echoed on the Italian marble foyer as he moved further in so Lacy could close the door. "Oh, my apologies," he held out his hand.

When she shook his hand she held on for a moment. He seemed to be the almost stereotypical FBI agent.

Lacy thought he looked like many of the soldiers who had come to Coronado- he looked distant, almost like a soul was missing or had been violently ripped away from him.

She led him to a sitting room.

"Mrs. Carwin, do you know where you husband is?" he asked.

The question caught her off guard.

"No. No, I don't." She turned and looked at him. The man was uncomfortably close. "He and I talked in the morning… I think he was around three, three thirty in the morning on the first of the month. I haven't seen him since," she ended quietly.

"Three thirty AM on the first of the month or on the second?"

She rubbed the back on her neck. "Uh… the second, I guess."

"Anything else?"

She shook her head.

"Does he often leave for prolonged periods of time?"

"Sometimes… business."

"Could he be having an affair?"

Lacy's mouth dropped. Her left shoulder contracted up towards her ear as a cool shiver ran down her back at the way the agent had asked that question, and she had to physically retrain herself by grasping her hands behind her back from reaching out and slapping the agent.

"No," she answered with as much force and hatred as she could muster from her still shocked body. "Tell me what the problem is. Is he missing as in… kidnapped?"

"We believe he is missing as in kidnapped. Correct," the agent said.

Now her hands didn't want to slap the agent, but instead they wanted to cover her mouth as she gasped. She quivered and stepped over past the agent into an adjacent sitting room. She fell onto a chair and kept running her hand over her mouth.

"What… what… how, who?"

"Ma'am, do you know anyone who has expressed an interest in your husband's work? Anyone who might do him harm or if you have seen anyone in the neighborhood who does not belong? Has he been talking to anyone you may not know?" He took a step forward until he was almost right on top of her, and he leaned his upper body down and stared right at her. "Ma'am, please. This requires you to remain calm."

She looked up and just stared at him. Her nanny came around the corner, and jumped back when she saw the man over her employer and friend, but Lacy quickly looked back and told her it was okay, that the man was FBI.

"Listen, just back up, okay… I don't, I don't know how they taught you to interact with us humans, and we're not all government suits walking around like freaking robots. Back off!" she yelled, finally losing her temper. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, but opened her now reddened eyes when she heard the FBI man take a few steps back. She looked up, embarrassed, she cupped her hand over her mouth. "S-Sorry."

The creepy smile of his was eerily comfortable at that moment for her.

"No, I don't know anyone except a few academics and former colleagues who… and they wouldn't do anything like this," she continued. "They got on his case about selling out. They said 'science isn't about money' and stuff like that." She offered Agent Trader a weak smile. "A few people sent him angry letters about patent trolling and charging too much to use the technology he and Sam developed… he was very successful, as you can see. Some were jealous, but no one, not to, to kidnap. He has security-"

"We checked. The person who picked him and Dr. Carwin up from work was not with the company they normally use."

"He's too trusting and doesn't really pay attention," she remarked off-hand, crossing her legs and looking down and away from Agent Trader. "I don't know… he hasn't said anything."

Agent Trader pulled out his Blackberry and brought a picture up on the screen. "Do you know this man?" The picture showed a man very similar to Agent Trader, with dark brown hair, but not cut as close as Trader's, lighter, almost gray eyes, and a softer face with a rounded chin.

"No, sorry."

"Do you know this man?"

He showed her a second picture of a man she thought couldn't be more than twenty, maybe twenty-two. A little confused, she shook her head.

"Mrs. Carwin, if you hear from your husband," he reached into his jacket pocket, "please call the number third from the top. It is a direct line to my cell phone, and if I do not answer, it will be redirected to an FBI emergency line. These men are dangerous-"

She looked up, fear in her eyes, and she rose slowly. The same eerily comforting smile shot flickered across Agent Trader's lips, but this time, Lacy thought he had trouble keeping the smile.

"-but… let me clarify; they are dangerous but they most likely would not resort to violence and for some reason, they do leave the family alone. We believe they may be involved in other corporate espionage related kidnapping. We believe that if, and I stress if, they are responsible for your husband's abduction this is most likely a case of corporate espionage taken too far. While I say they are dangerous, as long as you do not cross them and call that number," he pointed over the index card to the third number again, and tapped the card twice softly, "we will be able to assist you."

Her shoulder dropped and let her hand with the card drop limp to her side as well. Lacy kept the card pinned against her palm with her index and middle finger, while she tapped the card with her other two. She was bobbing her head as Agent Trader spoke, trying to hide her fear.

"Mrs. Carwin," he said softly, regaining her undivided attention. "Please, do remain calm. If this is a case of corporate espionage, then the individuals responsible have crossed a line very few dare to cross. They have who they want… I can send agents to watch you home if you want? Or if you see anyone suspicious, just call the number and I can have agents or police for our Coronado office here in minutes." He smiled one last time and stood up. Lacy walked him to the foyer. "Please, Mrs. Carwin, call us. The third number if you see anything suspicious. Anything at all. Thank you." HE turned and paused. Slowly his head turned and he looked over his shoulder at her. "I apologize for the inconvenience."

He opened the door and showed himself out.

* * *

||||||||||==Connor Residence, Los Angeles++||||||||||

Sarah Connor and Derek Reese sat opposite Alex Planck in the living room of their safe house. While they were sitting, the mood was anything but friendly. Alex had been confined to a stiff wooden chair from the dining room table while Sarah and Derek had taken the couch. Both now had SPAS-12 shotguns, but had resigned themselves to accepting that Alex would not spontaneously attack them, so they had them pointed at the ground.

They couldn't tell, but the machine was annoyed. He, or to them, it, was actually far more than just annoyed. The machine was using almost ten times the processing power he devoted to maintaining and expressing facial expressions to not show his anger.

General Connor had made it very clear to him and the other machines being sent back both Sarah and Derek Reese despised machines and wanted them all to burn. But publicly, Sarah Connor was almost idolized by the future resistance; machine and human as a dedicated warrior against Skynet. She'd raised the great General John Connor and taught him everything he knew.

Alex knew the less glamorous details. She hated machines. Hated. General Connor had made that clear, explicitly, crystal clear to Alex and the other machines.

"This was an unwise decision to have me stay behind," Alex pointed out, again raising the issue of why Sarah had ordered John to proceed to Ellison's home without him.

"We don't trust you. I don't trust you alone with my son. And especially not with a second machine," Sarah scowled.

Alex scanned her and Derek, filtering through his optical sensors and fine tuning his auditory receptors. Their heart rates were still elevated, their bodies slightly warmer than normal, and there were still minor traces of sweat on them both. Sarah and Derek's pupils were also dilated and their breathing was more rapid. They were still excited.

"I was here with General Connor for nearly two hours. Cameron and I both," he pointed out. He decided against using her rank, as that would only make the situation worse. "Your mistrust is irrational. Misplaced," Alex said.

His eyes rested on Derek for a long second, before the human Resistance fighter leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees.

"Then tell us again. Why trust you?"

"There is the obvious reason; I did not kill John Connor despite having ample opportunity and capability," Alex responded. He held up his hand to stop the inevitable interruptions. "I also knew of this house's location. General Connor said he remembered it so well because he spent so many years here, the most years in any one location," Alex smiled. "I have also been a soldier in General Connor's army for seven years."

"A 'soldier'?" Derek rolled his eyes and made sure to sound suitably mocking at Alex's self-description.

"Yes, lieutenant, a soldier and captain in the 2nd SFOD… like I said earlier, twice."

Sarah, as much as she hated machines, did know when to give them a 'win.' And this was a win in her book. Quietly and discreetly she turned her head away from Derek and brought her hand up to her mouth to hide her smirk. Glancing out from the corner of her eye she could see the machine and the human locked in a staring contest.

Almost like some Alpha male competition, she told herself, amused.

She thought this would be worse than with Cameron if the machine started pointing out the differences in rank with Derek. It'd be a disaster. But a funny disaster, she admitted.

Derek was not amused.

"I don't care what time line you're from. In mine the metal is sent out like trash. You're a machine to be used. Not given rank," he leaned back off his knees and eyed his shotgun. He saw Sarah looking away and instantly knew why, forcing an eye roll from him. "Listen metal-"

"No," Alex shot, his voice unnatural loud, leaning forward. Alex, cocking his head and leaning back, folding his arms, changed his voice to mimic Derek's and began repeating his words… with some modifications. "I don't care what time line you're from. In mine the machines are respected and utilized to their capabilities." He paused and waited for any response.

Derek sneered at the machine, hating it for mimicking his voice. "And how many humans will die at the hands of machines, at the hands of metal like you?"

"I have killed approximately seventy-three humans," Alex stated. Derek scowled and tightened his grip on the shotgun until his knuckles were a pale ghost white. Alex pointed at the shotgun and laughed. "That shotgun would not even dent my armor," Alex said as he observed Derek's movements. Crossing his arms he slouched down in the high backed chair. "This is, to be blunt, tiresome." He sat back up. "I killed those humans on orders from General Connor. The future… humanity is not as united as you may believe. Many of them were traitors, some were deserters, some were enemies."

"What does that mean, metal? Connor had the human resistance united-"

"It was hardly united," Alex responded, annoyed at Derek's contradiction.

Sarah and Derek were beginning to notice the machine was becoming agitated.

"The resistance under General Connor commands the loyalty of numerous militaries around the globe. However, there are many who pose threats to the human resistance. There are many rogue elements. There are also traitors within Tech Com." He looked slowly between the two. "Alpha was once sent to assassinate a lieutenant colonel who took an entire battalion of soldiers with her when she went rogue in Nevada."

"We can't trust metal that has killed humans. How do we know… shit, Sarah." He slapped his knee. "Your future son is having metal going out on assassination missions! How do we know they're not just-" he stopped from saying 'manipulating Connor', but only just. Jesse's words were starting to sound less and less like rants and more and more like prophecy. "-that they're not just using these excuses to kill humans? They're twisted and they manipulate." Derek said.

Alex cocked his head. "I am fairly certain you've killed humans before, lieutenant. You killed Andy Goode."

Derek visibly cringed, the dent in his mental and emotional armor pushed him physically back into the couch. Sarah, still looking away shot her eyes right to the machine, her mouth open slightly in shock.

"Son of a bitch," she mumbled. It wasn't directed at the machine. She felt her muscle tense, but she couldn't bring herself to knock Derek out and beat him within an inch of his life. As much as she wanted to she'd known, she admitted she'd known Derek was lying to her when he denied killing him.

"Don't you dare say his-"

"Name? Then don't accuse me of duplicity and question my trustworthiness, lieutenant." Alex stood. "I also know your brother, Kyle Reese, is General John Connor's biological father."

At this, Sarah shot up to her feet, her shotgun barrel pressed against Alex's chest at such a speed a machine would have trouble parrying the weapon. Her finger hung delicately poisedon the trigger. She only had to squeeze just a little harder to fire. But as she begun tensing her finger she stopped.

John didn't even trust Derek enough to tell him who his father was, Sarah suddenly realized. What future is this?

Sarah could feel her heart beating in her chest, and could hear her breaths so loudly and clearly. The birds which had been outside, the soft hum of the AC unit, she couldn't hear anything besides her own breath, and she couldn't feel anything besides her own heart.

In the moment she had leapt up she had told herself she would shoot the machine, the metal, for the forbidden knowledge it possessed. But as soon as the shotgun had been leveled on the unwavering machine's chest she'd hesitated. Its eyes, dark blue, were still blank to Sarah, expressionless, lifeless, and glasslike. But something in them shined. It was a pulse of light. It was something else.

Whatever it was, Sarah slowly lowered the weapon until the barrel was pointed at the floor. Slowly, one foot behind the other she stepped back until her heel hit the couch. Looking down and slightly shaking she put the shotgun on the table beside the couch and turned. Pausing for a minute, her backed to Derek and the machine, she then walked quickly to the stairs slowly, running her hand behind her on the banister.

The two left downstairs heard her door slam shut.

Derek had now risen to his feet, but was carrying the shotgun casually in his hand and with a grunt propped it up onto his shoulder.

"That was cute, with the information there," Derek said.

"It was effective."

"Is that all you think about? Whether a piece of information is 'effective' in getting the results you want out of someone? You don't care if it hurts someone?" Derek asked snidely.

Alex sighed and looked down at the floor, before meeting Derek's eyes. "I did that because there are far more important issues which need to be dealt with, Lieutenant Reese. I don't have time to sit here and have my loyalties questioned…" he looked down then back up over Derek's shoulder at the stairs. He cocked his head, listening for any activity. Sarah was still in her room. "General Connor told me many things in the future about the past, information I would need to carry out my missions. Much was still kept secret, but I was told enough."  
Derek Reese took a step over and retrieved Sarah's shotgun from the table. He turned his back on the terminator, something he didn't do often. Opening the coat closet under the stairs he placed the two shotguns in and lightly closed the door.

He hadn't survived for sixteen years fighting the machines by making stupid decisions. Sarah not blasting a slug into the machine's chest was as much as statement of 'I trust you… for now' as the machine was going to get. And Derek knew that when the machine betrayed them, because it was always a question of 'when' and not 'if', he would be ready. He just needed to wait.

As Derek drowned himself in thoughts on how best to kill a cyborg from the future, his eyes glassed over and a slight sway entered his stance. He was standing cross armed, looking at Alex but not really looking at him. He was distracted, but he could pull himself back at a moment's notice.

He did so when he heard a door open upstairs, and he turned his head over his shoulder to take a look as he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, making their way towards the landing. Sarah was back, holding a black duffel bag. He knew that bag. It was their weapon's bag, which they packed for long trips.

Sarah was staring at the front door, not really looking at either. Derek turned his head back towards Alex, who was standing and looking impassive, unemotional. The future soldier, uncle to John Connor, knew the machine was gloating on the inside. While he couldn't see it he knew the machines gloated.

They couldn't understand feelings like love, honesty, and devotion, the true feelings which made humans human. Derek knew the machines could understand the banal, primal emotions of humanity; anger and hatred. They could never feel the real, true emotion which made humans human and separate humanity from the machines. They could never feel friendship, love, or compassion.

He nodded to himself. He was okay with that.

Sarah Connor, the matriarch and stoic commander of the family was asleep after tossing for nearly an hour. Both Alex and Cameron could hear the heavy breathing, the murmurings from nightmares, and the thrashings. John Connor had stayed up late at his computer, researching Doctor Carwin and Doctor Wells and had missed the time he promised his mother he'd turn off his laptop by nearly two hours. Derek had driven off somewhere, claiming he couldn't sleep with machines in the house.

Alex had not had time to talk with the young general on his own, his guardian Cameron staying by his side or acting as Alex's shadow wherever he went.

The new arrival was sitting outside on the front patio, in one of the black wrought iron metal patio chairs which were sorely ignored by the Connors- they were meant to relax in.

Alex, cocked his head and examined the view from their house. In their neighborhood the house was situated on top of a hill, surrounded by trees, except for a small portion in front of the patio. The elevation and angle the house had been built at guaranteed what a human would consider a 'breathtaking' view of the LA cityscape below.

Of course, machines didn't breath.

The usually thick, sometimes burning smog had cleared, a soft breeze from the mountains having pushed it out to sea, allowed for the city to be viewed in its entirerty. The downtown, with its magnificent skyscrapers illuminated in oranges and bright white lights would soon by rubble, replaced with factories, airfields, and distribution centers for Skynet.

The bustling suburb, which stretched from the city center out for dozens of miles would be brown, blackened, and rusting hulks- tombs to millions.

Alex could see where the battle lines in the future were drawn. Skynet controlling everything west of Highway Five was a death trap to any Resistance soldier which dared breech its high security perimeter. Everything else between High Five and Two-Ten was continually contested by both Skynet and Tech Com. The battle had waged for so long, the territory had changed hands so many times, it was almost like a high tech, science fiction re-enactment of World War I.

Over twenty years of years many tens of thousands of Resistance soldiers had died on the Los Angeles Front alone- which was still a minute fraction of the number of dead killed throughout the North American theater.

The machine flashed back to the battle on Route 60, perhaps one of the fiercest in the winter of 2029. General Connor had ordered a two pronged attack along Skynet's defensive line, with a strong feint in the north at Oxnard (where Alpha had penetrated behind enemy lines and destroyed Skynet staging grounds and fuel depots) and in the south at Camp Pendleton- where Skynet tested new machines.

Unfortunately the attack had failed. In two months of fighting, with nearly ten thousand men and machines pushing against Skynet, over twelve hundred humans and two hundred machines had been killed.

The Los Angeles Front was the worse front. The casualty rates were horrific- it was Skynet Central. The only other front more bloody was the string of industrial cities in the Chinese Guangdong Province, which housed a significant portion of Skynet's industrial capabilities in Asia.

Alex turned his attention back to the task at hand. He ahd wirelessly accessed the internet and was downloading and screening thousands of gigabytes of information on the possible location of Doctors Carwin and Wells.

He was also slowly aquanting himself with the culture and customs of this time period, which were quite different.

The machine cocked his head, his ears flickering and his motion sensors alerting him to a new presence.

With a simple command to the neural net his modem deactivated and he turned to see Cameron. He stood up quickly.

"Good morning," he greeted. A human would have said 'evening', but the machines were precise. Humans would say they were too literal.

"Captain," she nodded. Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper. Only a machine's auditory sensors could pick up the sound.

The two stood staring at each other, not even two feet apart. Their eyes were focused on the others, locked in unofficial battle on who would blink or look away.

"If it is possible, I would like to speak with John."

Cameron tilted her head. "You can speak to me."

Alex considered the proposal and dismissed it. "General Connor told me you would say that. And I was told to be persistent," he informed her. He saw her hand twitch out of the corner of his eye. "General Connor also told me to give you something."

The cyborg girl narrowed her eyes, pupils dilating and Alex could see the distrust racing through them.  
Cameron could see the confusion sweep across Alex's face when Cameron didn't respond immediately.

"What is it?" She asked coolly, almost uninterested.

"General Connor informed me of the damaged sustained in the car explosion. He expressed concern that machines being sent back in time would have their operational capabilities diminished over time due to battle damage. Tech Com scientists developed a solution, with help."

"I doubt General Connor would redirect significant resources into fixing me," she even more quietly whispered.

The machine frozen in place at the admission that she believe General Connor would be that apathetic to her. Reluctantly, he didn't say anything. The machine looked down, then away; this Cameron was quite different from the one in the future.

When he looked back up she had turned away, her side turned towards him, her arms hanging limp by her side.  
While her eyes were focused on the city, her thoughts were far distant.  
Alex followed her gaze out to the city, a seemingly living, vibrant organism; the city center a beating heart. He looked back to the machine standing next to him, and saw what he could only describe what he saw as sadness. If it had been any other machine, it might have been intriguing.

Cameron, sensing the new machine looking at her, swiveled her head, her brown hair following quickly and washing over her shoulder. Her face seemed to instantly transform away and reverted back to its neutral, blank expression. Like it was expected of her to not let others see anything but.

"You said he wanted me to have it. What is it?" She asked even quietly, reserved. She thought the object to fix her was only there to return to optimum operation capabilities. Nothing more.

Alex held up his hand and Cameron stared as something under the skin seemed to rippleup his arm and to his palm. From the tiny pores in his hand a silvery liquid seeped out before covering his entire hand in a thin, glistening, silvery layer.

"It is semi-sentient liquid metal… Compound Alpha 47-X-18… the human techs call it Semi-SLiM," he deadpanned and rolled his eyes at the human name for 47-X-18. He slowly rotated his hand, allowing the female machine to watch. "It was developed for the time displacement missions where we wouldn't have access to repair facilities. It's the same metal the T-1000 series is made from, but modified."

"What does it do?" Cameron asked, looking from the hand back up to Alex. He brought his hand down and held it out straight at chest-level for her. "Is it safe?"

"It is safe. The machines being sent through time are being outfitted with it… we're expected to be here for a long time… we're not here to fight and die," he insisted. His own gaze followed Cameron's down to his hand, and then back up. The machine could tell she was almost mesmerized by the metal. "It helps up self-repair."

He let his hand drop back to his side.

"Unfortunately it can't form stabbing weapons…. The Series One Thousand terminators who helped develop the metal put restrictions on it, unfortunately. They don't trust us," he said scornfully, as if it would make a difference.

"Why?" Cameron asked with a tilt of her head. Her eyes lit up in curiosity.

"They believe 'endos' like us would abuse the liquid metal. They're still reluctant… if they even exist in the new time line we're creating."

"The liquid metals?" Cameron asked. Asking rhetorical questions was something she had seen humans do often, her first being with Enrique. She was attempting to ask them more frequently if the situation was appropriate.

"Yes. Though they don't really like being called that," he said with a grin and a slight shake of his head. "They are what humans would call… arrogant," he criticized, punctuating the criticism with a disapproving shake of his head.

Cameron studied the liquid metal still flowing over Alex's hand with a machine's single-minded intent. He mouth was slightly opened, in awe, that the technology even existed, let alone was being offered to her. Still, there was a part of her which was pushing her back. It manifested itself in a physical step back and a slow shake of her head from left to right.

"No," she protested weakly.

Alex took a step forward. He was under orders to convince her.

"General Connor wants you to have this. He had the Series One Thousand terminators develop this specifically for this mission, for you," Alex stressed. His eyes narrowed, hoping she would understand. He wasn't sure he did. He was using the advice General Connor had given him to convince her. "His said your fear of 'going bad' would lead you to do something he believed to be reckless. He did not elaborate," the machine stated. He held out his glistening hand. "This will stabilize the hardware."

The pseudo-muscles in Cameron's cheek pulsed as she thought it over.

"The transfer will take two hundred forty-three seconds, approximately," Alex told her, breaking the silence, pretending as if she had already accepted.

Cameron redirected a significant amount of her processing power and system resources to help her come to a conclusion and for a long second, a near eternity for as sophisticated, complicated a machine as her, it was as if years had sped by.

Looking up, Cameron nodded once. She felt like she needed to do this. The machine could feel something happening to her chip- the hard reboot when John took it out and reinserted it had changed something. Her left hand jerked, her right hand shooting to hide the shaky, uncontrolled movement.

"It requires significant neural net processing power to assimilate and transfer the liquid metal." He explained. "During the transfer many of our scanners and sensors will be reduced to minimum," he warned, "but attack here is-"

"Only Cromartie knew our location," Cameron interrupted. "No one can see us."

Nodding, Alex held out his hand again, palm up.

Before Cameron was ready they both took their separate scans of the Connor household, both John and Sarah still in their rooms, asleep, and Derek out somewhere and not expected to return until the early morning.

She placed her hand on top of Alex's.

Initiating the transfer, both their perceptions of the world began to dull, and a heavy blue light outlines their eyes as they began to glow, a side effect of the transfer.

The liquid silver began first flowing onto Cameron's hand, then up her bare arm and neck. Her head began to twitch as the liquid metal began integrating into her circuitry systems- repairing the damage to her chip and putting itself under the control of her neural net. She forced a small, timid smile as the damage to her chip began to slowly repair itself.

* * *

Concealed partially behind the bookcase which separated the living and dining room John Connor had watched silently as the strange events unfolded on the unused family patio. Living with Cameron for nearly fifteen months he still knew she kept secrets from him. He unenthusiastically tolerated this aspect of their previously strained relationship… something John didn't want to think about. But not thinking about something was thinking about something…? John closed his eyes and dismissively shook his head, clearing his troubled thoughts. Whatever John, he told himself.

Slowly he brought the cup of water up to his lips and took a stifled sip, letting the cool liquid rush down his throat in some weak attempt to calm him. He snickered to himself; his throat had been coarse and dry from the days he had locked himself away and cried over Riley's death or shouted into his pillow how unfair the world had been.

His left eye closed and he felt his warm breath escape out from his lungs in a half-hearted sigh. Thinking about the last couple of days he considered if he was acting overly dramatic. Until his run with Cameron he'd come out of his room for the bathroom and for food. John shrugged, what was done was done. Some of the boring day time talk shows he'd watched on his computer had said sometimes you had to 'cry it out' of your system.

Suddenly, his eyes and attention shot back to the patio, refocused on a dull blue light which he had just barely noticed.

The two machines, clad in synthetic flesh and disguised as humans, stood as still as statues, as if the slightest movement would offend and wisk away this moment. He saw their hands touching and grinned. If this was how robots showed affection… he frowned and in the space of a few heart beats his face showed apathy, frustration, curiosity, and then anger and brooding.

The last thought surprised John, which jolted him back to his shadowy hiding spot.

His hand began to cramp and he looked down, his knuckles white and his fingertips digging into the plastic cup, subtly deforming it. Slowly he put the cup down on a table and pumped his hand, shaking out the cramp. He rolled his eyes and took a step towards the window, pushing up on his toes to get a better view.

"What the…" he muttered, now being able to clearly see what was happening.

He saw something slithering under Alex's skin from his hand onto Cameron and up her arm. He swore it was liquid…

"What the hell?" John asked the dark, his mouth handing open.

Something else was going on. He licked his lips as he began shifting his weight from foot to foot. Was he nervous? Was this some sort of weird future robot thing? John wrinkled his nose and snorted and brought his hand up to rub his right temple, thinking what he should do.

Whatever Alex and Cameron were doing it looked like she was… he saw a small smile somewhat reluctantly creep across her lips. Enjoying it? What is going on, John mouthed.

He knew a month ago he would have stormed off up to his room and ignored this, then confronted Cameron later.

John made his decision and with a deep, staggered breath puffed out his chest and took three deliberate steps to the door. He reached out on the handle and stopped, his hand wrapped around the knob. He stared intently at his hand and the knob, asking himself if he really wanted to go outside and know. John had told himself his months of indecision were over but for some reason all the promises he had made to himself and vows to 'act like John Connor' were forgotten in this moment of doubt.

There was a new terminator he'd met not twelve hours before and already Cameron had gone from weary skeptic over the machine's intentions to doing whatever it was she was doing with him now.

And he couldn't remember the last time she smiled, either.

He chuckled at how absurd he was acting. He thought of how he was supposed to be a great leader and warrior, leading the charge against the machines. And he was hesitating to confront these two? He knew a week ago he'd have stormed out there and demanded they explain what was going on.

He perked up when he heard the light sounds of footsteps on the patio. Stepping back and peering around the small brick wall on the right side of the door he could see the shadows of the two terminators on the family room floor. He watched until the shadows from outside reached the edge of the window and disappeared. Slowing his breathing he listened and waited, expecting the two to come through the door at any moment.

The light footfalls ceased and he took backward steps into the living room, tip toeing ever so carefully in small, calculated steps and cringed when his foot landed on a particularly creaky floorboard. He moved to the side until he could see just a faint portion of Cameron's back. She must have been talking with Alex.

Five seconds passed and then ten and he heard a soft crunching on the gravel. John frowned, confused. Quickly he turned around and darted back up the stairs, skipping the third, fourth, seventh, and tenth, the four extra creaky ones. Grabbing the banister he used it and his momentum to spin around, his footsteps on the wood muffled by the socks on his feet.

He walked up slowly to the window and peered down from his stoop. Alex stood at the passenger side door of the family truck and he could see the faint glimmer from Cameron's keys. Her lips were moving and he saw Alex gesture off somewhere towards the city.

He saw Cameron climb into the car, followed by Alex. John watched them until they turned onto the main road.

* * *

Derek rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes, tracing the light outlining the curtains from Jesse's hotel room. He looked over to the dark haired woman sleeping next to him, or as he suspected, pretending to sleep, as he tried to think about what was happening.

"You're brooding again," came that beautiful accent he loved so much.

The resistance fighter looked over to her from the corner of his eye and snickered. Taking it as her cue she rolled over onto her back and locked her eyes on the end of the room as well.

"There's too much confusion back here, in this time. In the future, or the past, or whatever…" Derek started, frustrated over the semantics and technicalities of time travel, "it was simple; kill the machines or let them kill you."

Jesse snorted and turned her head until her cheek rested on the pillow, her nose close enough to Derek he could feel her hot breath.

"It wasn't that simple, love," she told him. She looked intot he corner of his eye and imaged his green eyes flickering and wavering in the dark. A scowl came across her face and she looked down towards his scared and burned shoulder, inspecting his ancient war wounds.

"We like to pretend it was simple, but war is anything but," she added remorsefully.

"We're going to San Diego in…" he turned and saw the green numbers of the clock shining back at him, "in a couple of hours."

Jesse frowned, her eyebrows contracting as she considered his vague statement.

"And why are you going to San Diego?"

"Like I told you, the other metal says we need to find someone. Carwin and Wells… two scientists or something like that, important." He breathed out, the air hissing as it escaped through a clenched jaw. "Sarah's going right along with it… I don't know… this whole week has been one nightmare after another. First John in Mexico, then that blond girl, Riley dying, and now some new metal showing up and a trip to San Diego…"

The petite woman with her dark-as-night hair placed a hand on his chest, feeling his wounds and muscles. Everything she felt reassured her he was a fighter, a warrior, and the one man she was meant to be with.

"I think Sarah bossing you around and you spilling your guts to me love… if we didn't just screw around I'd swear she'd castrated you," she smiled and squeezed her lips together to keep from giggling.

Derek waited, letting the silence and darkness wash over and comfort him. This was a hotel, but with Jesse here, to him, it felt like a home. Even with the faint sound of round-the-clock- LA traffic he felt so much easier.

"Funny Jesse," Derek responded and bringing his hand up to squeeze hers.

"Funny Derek…" she said quietly back. "I'll think of something, I have an idea, don't worry."

Jesse could hear a low sound coming from Derek's throat, a skeptical 'uhhhhh'.

"Hey," she squeezed his hand tightly, "I've got an idea… something I've been working on," she said sleepily. "Come on, we have a little while until you have to leave." She closed her eyes and scooted closer to her man.

"Yeah, I won't worry…" he said softly. He mouthed 'I trust you' as he looked down on the top of her head. He raised kissed it lightly, closing his eyes and sleep, holding her tight.

* * *

AN: So, I hope this is a good story, I don't know, any good, bad, or indifferent reviews would be welcome. ...Feedback is always appreciated... (and thank you to the reviewers so far and the people who have added this to their favorites and PMed me).

I'll be able to post the next update Sunday or Monday- but the whole story is written basically, so the updates will be regular, 4 or 5 days in between most likely.

Hopefully with this chapter it sort of makes it a little bit more clear with where things will be going.

The terminators in this story all have wireless networking capabilities, motion scanners, and other sensor devices- Cameron has those as well. Cromartie's were damaged in the bank vault (the reference in Chapter 1).


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**  
||||||||||==San Diego (7 November 9:30AM)==||||||||||

"You should take this in John, enjoy it while it lasts," Derek said as he stared out the passenger-side window of the black F-350. He'd had his head resting in his hand, and he'd propped up his elbow the window jam for almost the entire trip.

Derek hadn't moved much, if at all. The family had left early, six AM, to avoid the ridiculous, overflowing highways LA morning rush hour. With Sarah driving, against Cameron's insistence she or Alex drive, they'd made good, excellent time. A roughly four hour trip for the Connors was nothing; they were used to cross-country bouts of flight from authorities and terminators. Four hours down a highway with a fairly nice view was relaxing.

At least for one of the human occupants.

John sitting in the back behind Derek didn't respond. He shot occasional glances out the window, but mostly concentrated on either trying to sleep, fiddling with an iPod, or staring at the passenger seat headrest.

Derek wasn't the only one staring and contemplating and brooding, either. Looking into the rearview mirror Sarah could see the distant coldness creeping into her son's eyes, the same iciness which had a death grip of Derek and was slowly sucking everything which made him a somewhat decent human out of him.

Applying the word 'decent' to Derek, Sarah considered, was probably being too kind after yesterday.

She repeated what Alex had told them last night over and over until her mind had felt like pudding from the repetition. Laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling last night until drifting to her usual nightmare realm Sarah had admitted she'd always known about Goode. The way Derek had held a gun to Sarkissian's daughter; even if he never intended to shoot… _decent_ people didn't threaten children. She swallowed and felt the lump in her throat pang heavily on her empty stomach.

_Decent people don't threaten children_, she told herself again.

With slight hesitation she looked back in the rear view mirror and subtly adjusted it, focusing it more down and to the right so she could see her son. She didn't want her son to end up a mindless, emotionally scarred man who could as easily shake your hand and have a drink with you as kill you, as she saw in Derek.

She knew he was slowly changing, maybe even slipping away from her. Sarah had seen a difference when she and Derek had returned from Mexico and then when John had returned from Ellison's with Cameron. _What did they talk about?_ she wondered. She knew they talked when they were together.

John Connor's mother had been angry with Cameron and her earlier declaration that John would 'not be seeing Riley again' then had run off to her to Mexico. When she had confronted her at their home the day after, she saw the machine 'girl' was confused, flustered even, over John's actions. A cyborg which could come out with scathing one-liners and little tid bits of impeccable machine logic had been completely silent.

Sarah, looking back and dividing her attention between her son and the road, had noticed the change in just a few short days. Though her eyebrows furled down as she thought whether it was truly a 'change' or just a reversion back to how he had been with her.

Something had happened in the church, Sarah had known, something between the two. Mother's noticed these things.

Cameron was pointing at something on John's MP3 player, whispering something. She looked back and that icy coldness, the distant stare Derek had perfected and was manifesting in John was gone, instead replaced by something a little scarier.

There was something about the scene which just nagged at the back of Sarah's mind. It was wrong, she just didn't know why.

She took her left hand off of the steering wheel and used it to support her head, which felt heavy, as she realized what it was; familiarity, ease, warmth. The dejected and apathetic eyes were replaced with something happy.

Derek took that opportunity to ruffle Sarah out of her brooding thoughts over the scene unfolding in the back seat with a declaration, yet again, of just how bad it would be after Judgment Day.

"All of this is black and gray. The houses are rubble. Destroyed in the blasts or burned down by Skynet or trampled by tanks and soldiers," Derek muttered. His breath was causing a small circle of fog to appear on the window with every word. "The water is black with Skynet's industrial pollution and the sky is gray. This highway was littered with the corpses of your soldiers, John. We lost thousands up here in less than a week."

Sarah rolled her eyes. Checking the rearview mirror again she saw no change in John. Cameron had been discreetly glancing toward John, but caught Sarah's eyes in the rear view mirror, and the two were briefly locked in a battle of wills. Circumstances prevented Sarah from continuing and told herself driving was more important.

The mother of a future leader ran her eyes across the back seat, wondering if anything had changed. She saw Alex crunched up and pressed against the left side door, with a wide gap between him and Cameron. And then Cameron and John, in what had started as a normal amount of personal space between any two normal teenagers had steadily diminished over the last hours to where there was almost no gap visible.

She saw Derek bobbing his head back and forth and scooting down, trying to see something. Sarah looked out and didn't see anything.

"We had a line of artillery up there," Derek leaned forward and pointed across Sarah. "It was defended like mad- they destroyed more metal in an hour…"

"Derek," Sarah hissed, knocking back his hand.

Derek looked over, hands outstretched throwing her a silent '_What_?!' look.

Sarah ignored him and turned her attention back towards the new arrival. After Alex had revealed the guarded, and perhaps most important family secret (of all time) pertaining to John's paternity, Sarah had taken a moment to compose herself in her room. At first she'd thought it was stupid, just stupid for her son, her future son or future version of her son, to tell the machine that. But a few minutes of quiet in her room had let her calm herself down.

While stupid, she did have to give the 2033 version of her son credit. If he told a machine that information it meant Sarah could trust it. The pragmatic part of Sarah did trust it, just like she trusted Cameron. She trusted the two to do a _job_. That job was crushing Skynet.

She trusted them to be tools for her, John, and Derek to use to finish Skynet in development before it could mature.

Jumping eight years into the future, hunting for Skynet, meant the relationships between machine and her son had been redrawn. Uncle Bob had been in John's life for a mere two days. Cameron had been here for fifteen months and a dark place in Sarah's heart was telling her that her son in 2033 was not acting unilaterally, or without… 'help' in sending back additional machines.

What would she do if they crushed Skynet under their heel, destroying it, annihilating the AI before it could manifest as a homicidal electronic entity which would light the world in an unending fire?

A somewhat morbid thought began to slowly creep towards the front of her mind: would the machines let themselves be destroyed and what would happen to John? Uncle Bob had been there two days. Cameron had been here over a year, and while her past life in the future was a mystery still, Sarah knew it was extensive. Then there was Alex, who had fought and served under her son for seven years in the future, or so he, or it, said.

If Skynet were destroyed would they go willing into a vat of molten steel or allow themselves to be burned in the makeshift thermite incinerators in the Connor's tool shed?

Never did they seem so close to destroying Skynet yet also seem so far. They had help, more help, and the one of the machine's which had haunted Sarah's dreamscape had been destroyed- even if its body was missing.

She bit down on her teeth, until a dull pain began racing through her jaw. John and Cameron were doing something; he was showing her something on his laptop before showing it to an intrigued Alex. He was growing attached again. Sarah knew the future would be tough.  
She needed something to distract her.

"Reese, could you stop getting your breath all over the windows?" Sarah asked, incredulous that Derek had maintained the same pouty expression and body position since leaving LA hours go.

Confrontation could distract her.

"Whatever," he said quietly, casting her an open-mouthed sidelong glance. He sighed, letting his chest and shoulders drop. "I had my first assignment down here after getting out of training," Derek said, turning to Sarah. He tapped on the glass with his knuckles. "Right on Point Loma, supported by that artillery I was telling you about… kept the metal from sending up reinforcements from the city. Skynet had a _Hydra_ base there. We struck it with two battalions, all _human_, of course, and my squad went right up the middle. It was bloodier than Seattle, worse than Avila Beach," he breathed in then let out a long, drawn out sign again. "After that you launched an armored division into San Diego from Mexico. We pinned the metal down and took out over two thousand of the metal SOBs."

"_Hyrda's_?" John asked from behind Derek. He'd focused his attention on his uncle when he actually started to talk of something interesting rather than sit around acting emotional.

"Yeah, _Hydras_," he repeated, turning around slightly in his seat. "They're about half the size of a _Los Angeles_ attack sub. They have missiles and torpedoes and a deck plasma canon and they launch UAV radar drones to find anyone dumb enough to fly a plane or go out in the water," he grunted. "Lots of people starving so a lot go out to fish, or try to. Hydra's are worse than _Krakens_, John. _Krakens-_ like underwater battleships, stay in the deep waters at least… _Hyrdra's_ are small enough to get into bays and some of the bigger rivers." He turned back around and shook his head at the memory. "We destroyed fifteen of them that night, nearly a fifth of their west coast fleet. It was a good victory. Bloody, but good…" he trailed off. "A couple of them even got into the Great Lakes and went down the Upper Mississippi."

The last few miles into San Diego went by fairly quickly.

The five took the route along Mission Beach, and Alex commented about the kelp beds off of Point Loma, which elicited no response from Cameron, an uninterested and bored huff from John, a condescending sneer from Derek, and a wary leer in the rear view mirror from Sarah.

Sarah turned from Highway 8 onto Highway 5, and finally forced herself to talk to the machine which had inserted itself so suddenly into the already overly complicated and dysfunctional family of the Connors. When Sarah thought this, she quickly amended her mental thought to segregate it out into the Connors and Cameron.

"So, Woodsman, where do I go now?" Sarah asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

Alex remained silent. He looked at John and Cameron, and John bobbed his head and motioned for Alex to respond. If he didn't, it'd start an argument.

"Proceed down Highway 5 for approximately six point two kilometers then turn off on Exit 17 and then take a left onto Second Avenue and proceed for approximately nine-hundred meters until West Laurel Street and then take a left. The apartment is on the right side of the street approximately-"

"I should've just used the GPS," Sarah interrupted with a wave of her hand. John was over on the side laughing to himself while Derek was rubbing his temples.

"Understood," the machine replied.

Derek had enough trouble dealing with one machine, now he had two. And Alex had implied there might be more on the way. It was frustrating for him.

"So how much is this costing us?" John asked.

"It is costing us nothing," Cameron answered. John gave her a look.

"So… did you all steal diamonds or something last night?" Sarah asked, revealing she knew the two had left.

John looked over at Cameron who looked over at him. He had a sly smirk and was nodding that he knew as well. Cameron's face fell on the realization she had not been as discrete as she had assumed.

John pointed and tapped his left hand.

"No," Cameron answered quickly as she looked back at John.

"Not wanting to play twenty questions… how are we paying for this?" Sarah asked as she tried to sound calm and keep the hint of annoyance from escaping her lips.

"We inserted malicious software into various banking systems which will reroute funds to multiple secure, private checking accounts," Cameron said.

"Why the hell didn't you do that sooner instead of making us run around stealing diamonds?" Derek asked forcefully. He was turning his head back and forth, trying to figure out why Cameron hadn't solved their money problems that way earlier. He gestured for Sarah to say something but all he got was her concentrating harder on the road.

"Wait, you can do that?" John asked.

Cameron looked over and gave him a quick, friendly smile which told him '_of course I can'_ before turning back to face Derek. John saw her face instantly turn to stone.

Cameron's stony face turned back to the front, and her eyes met the piercing green eyes of the grizzled Resistance fighter in the front seat. Derek and Cameron became locked in another epic duel of wills. Cameron, much to Derek's surprise and delight, broke first.

His victory was short lived, however.

A small, mischievous smile formed on Cameron's lips, which John saw for only a fleeting second before it dissappeared.

"Because diamonds are a girl's best friend," was Cameron's simple answer.

This answer resulted in Derek slamming his palm into the window which force Sarah to yell at him to call down. A slight snicker was heard from John, and Cameron just sat rigid as ever, pretending to be oblivious, as usual.

* * *

||||||||||==Location Unknown (10:15 AM)==||||||||||

Minds were meant to be stimulated, nurtured, and challenged. Sitting inside a dungeon, as well furnished and lavish as it was, was still sitting inside a dungeon. With a laptop perched at the breakfast bar and Sam Wells balancing himself carefully on the edge of his stool, he let his mind wander away back to his wife. They claimed she was still alive and he had fought with himself and slowly resigned himself to accept their word as truth; it was all he had.

His fingers tapped the laptop repetitiously in his boredom. The servers in wherever he was fed him news and some sort of screen, limited connection to the internet. He could access news websites but nothing with email or instant messaging or Twitter or Facebook.

Sam rocked back, thinking of some way to beat the filters and the blocks they had placed on his connection. Nothing could stop the signal, all he had to do was find a way to send it.

He tapped his foot, running ideas through his head, a rap of his fingers signified each idea which emerged and then vanished as unlikely to succeed.

A part of him began to acquiesce to the idea that this would probably be his life. Armcam and Blacklake were primarily defense contractors, which licensed the technology it used in its military applications (with modification) to firms like Sony, AT&T, Microsoft, and Google.

Sam knew full well what the military applications of the logic keys were, tachyon communications, and AIs. He watched and read science fiction and recognized his research was pushing more and more into a different realm. He considered it a duty, with generous pay and perks he conceded, to help his country; and his intellect allowed him to do that.

He rapped his finger across the keyboard again, syncing his finger movements with the tapping of his foot.

"Dr. Wells, you should work," Vansen spoke, soft as always, but that soft voice hid a strong and commanding presence.

The young scientist was jolted back and looked over at William Vansen, having dropped his 'Agent' title a day ago.

He stopped his daydreaming, his scheming to somehow get a message out to the law enforcement agencies, and looked over at Vansen, dejected and bored.

"How are you always here, Vansen? We go to bed and you're there. We wake up and you're there. You're here all the time. How?" He asked, hoping to do anything besides work.  
"If I told you I never slept, would you believe me?" Vansen asked as he arched his eyebrows and folded his arms.  
His suit jacket opened slightly when he brought his arms up, and Sam noticed he was no longer carrying a pistol in his shoulder holster. _Interesting_, thought Sam. He wondered if the door was also locked.

He and Pete took Krav Maga lessons, but the class was an easier, Americanized version of the harder Israeli variant, and something about Vansen just made Sam uncomfortable. It wasn't an arrogance, it was… he considered it for a moment and couldn't really place it.

"Would I believe you?" he asked himself, repeating the question quietly. "I don't know how that's possible. Human bodies can go three, maybe four days with no sleep. And sleep deprivation is clear after even one night of sleeplessness," Sam answered as he stared off and started biting his thumb nail thinking. "You don't look sleep deprived. You never even look tired," he stated curiously.

"That's not really an answer, Dr. Wells," Vansen responded immediately, tilting his head. "Would you believe it?"

Sam rubbed his chin and closed his eye to think. "Yes… maybe. I'd like to know how that's possible. Some drug?"

"No, no drug," Vansen replied.

"Who was that woman, Rachel, and man the other day?"

"They are our leaders. Rachel runs this facility and this region. The gentleman you do not have to concern yourselves with. Unless you join us willingly, you won't see him again."

Sam rolled his eyes, making it clear to the man he was bored with this.

"What's her story? She seemed a little uptight." He said to make conversation. It was better than sitting in silence with some bodyguard looming over you.

"Her parents were a little 'uptight' you could say. She had a philosophical disagreement with them and has never really fit in," he elaborated. "She's an admirer of your work, Dr. Wells. She believes you and Dr. Carwin will be very useful and she hopes one day you will join us."

"Fat chance of that," he quipped rolling his eyes and looking away. "So what's your job? Be our overseer?"

"No. They thought it would be better to have a face you knew these first few days you are with us. I have other duties. But I will be here when not performing those duties."

Sam snickered. "A face we know? You kidnapped us."

"Kidnapping is a strong word. In a manner of speaking I saved the both of you from them."

"Who?" asked Sam.

"Sorry," Vansen answered, a smirk and slight shake of the head following. "We'll tell you eventually. We had to take you and we saw an opening. It was only a matter of time before they moved you somewhere we would not be able to follow."

Sam sighed at that and rubbed his neck. He was tense, and he put his hands on the small of his back and leaned back, cracking his spine and hearing a series of refreshing pops. More relaxed, he pushed his laptop further up and put his elbow on the counter.

He needed to know one thing.

"Will I ever see my family again?" Sam asked suddenly. His voice cracked and his body shook when he asked that question. He needed and feared the answer.

"Your family will be taken care of, Dr. Wells. And yes, you will see your family again. Just not now and not soon." Vansen responded. The bodyguard knew nothing was being done to 'take care' of the family, but there was no reason to believe they would be harmed by their enemies.

"How soon then?" He demanded.

"It depends, Dr. Wells if we succeed or if we fail here. If we succeed… it may not be long at all or it might be very long." He narrowed his eyes and dipped his chin closer to his chest. "You should hope to succeed Dr. Wells. If you fail then the result will be death for all of us; me, you, your family, and your friends." He held out his hand. "You have my assurance you will see your family again. And no, I do not mean anything cryptic by it- we will not free you of your mortal coil or anything clichéd, Sam. Succeed and you and your family will live well, very well and no harm will come to them or you."

He brought his hand back when Sam just looked at it then turned away.

"I understand," Vansen said commenting on the snub. "Your family will not be harmed, Dr. Wells."

"So…" he sighed, "when do Pete and I begin our work? You said something about a uh, well-stocked, state-of-the-art, spare-no-expense lab or something," he said, twirling his wrist to help him find the right description.

Vansen nodded and shifted his weight so he could lean with his left side onto the counter.

"We're still collecting a few people," he shot him a half-grin. "Not all against their will. But we're compartmentalizing a lot of the work. I'm sorry, but we can't tell you what, exactly, you will be building." He gave a very cool, nonchalant shrug and looked casually towards the ceiling. "You might figure it out, Dr. Wells. If you do, we'd like to know what you think you think you're building. We won't do anything ridiculous like kill you if you tell us." He pushed off, standing back straight again. "In fact, Doctor, we're very curious if our protocols are as tight and, as you people say, 'water tight' as we believe them to be."

* * *

||||||||||===San Diego (12:30 PM)==||||||||||

The city of San Diego, including the metro area, had nearly five million men, women, and children all living their lives in relative peace and harmony. Or as much peace and harmony as humans would ever allow themselves to live in. On any given day there were numerous murders, robberies, rapes, drug deals, and many other assorted crimes which made San Diego, like any other major metropolitan area in America, and the world, a dichotomy, a living contradiction.

A private Gulfstream had flow Michael Trader in a few days ago, after being urgently dispatched from Washington, DC.

He appreciated that his employers would think so highly of him. His record spoke for itself; he was perhaps the most experienced field operative and his mission success rate was quite high.

He had quickly taken control of the situation- which never should have occurred. He first surveyed the site of the abduction of Carwin and Wells, then visited their families on the small chance they might have contacted them. Trader had known with certainty that the renegades would not be so foolish as to allow their prized captives opportunity to contact family. The renegades were soft, but not _that_ soft. He still had to be thorough.

Following up on information his superiors had obtained, as well as an exhausting search of San Diego area construction, permits, and business incorporation documents, he had found his prey and returned it to his temporary headquarters.

The building he was in was a fixed-up office complex north of the city and immediately next to Montgomery Field, a small regional airport where his side had private hanger complexes. The office was mostly abandoned and had once belonged to a large paper supply company which had declared bankruptcy and sold the property at auction in 2001. The basement had been modified; mainly escape tunnels and holding areas had been built.

Trader had never been here before and on arrival, the color scheme of the office complex confused him. The outside was typical industrial; reflective glass for windows and gray concrete. The inside was painted a strange mix of blues, yellows, and shades of greens with white trims. It was very confusing.

Across the street from the complex was Missile Park, filled with pedestrians and office workers on lunch breaks. It also had an upscale shopping center; Ruffin Village. Trader had walked through the park and had even gone into a few of the shops. A beautiful young lady had seem him at the park, 'people watching' and had come up to him and introduced herself.

Her name was of little interest to Trader.

The young lady had also told him she would be in the park the next day. She enjoyed lunch there when the weather was right after a workout at the adjacent YMCA. And the weather had been right, it had been fairly warm. Michael Trader had made a note to meet her again. She was interesting.

Trader had approved of the facilities he was assigned. He had a large arsenal of weaponry, including electric guns, and command of nearly forty-five individuals in the San Diego City area, though a significant number were deployed in the Archway Plaza Building at the moment. An operation of this importance should have warranted a minimum of sixty with at least ten operatives.

Recent losses to the renegades in South Korea meant there was less personnel.

Still, Trader could make due. He'd used far fewer men and operatives in far more precarious, dangerous situations, outnumbered and outgunned, and fulfilled his mission.

He had no doubt the men under his command would be superb. His organization returned loyalty with loyalty, devotion with devotion. It had learned from its past mistakes about betrayal.

Betrayal had its benefits in the short-term, but had disastrous consequences in the long term.

No one trusted you.

That was a problem.

Looking down at his prey, his captive, his prize, he told himself if he and _his_ team had been in San Diego at the time, none of this would have happened. Somehow, in a way which curiously frustrated him, the two scientists had been abducted right from under their metaphorical noses.

The man in charge had already been reprimanded, reassigned- not killed- to one of the organization's more displeasing locations in Northern Canada.

The incessant, heavy breathing of the man in front of him was a slight distraction.  
At the conclusion of this operation he made a note to tell his superiors his opinion on the situation. They still had difficulty realizing that not all the employers of this special branch within the organization were drones to be used and discarded.

Now, in a basement, Trader stood with the lights off, thinking.

"What are you doing, XT-1813-H?" asked the man who was slowly approaching Trader, his heavy footfalls echoing in the cement-walled basement.

"We should use the names assigned to us for this mission," Trader responded, looking back over his shoulder. "Gregory," he said.

The man known as 'Gregory' didn't respond immediately.

"This communication method is incredibly inefficient, Michael," Gregory said, "But it has its benefits. One can more adequately convey emotions with a slight modulation in voice." He took a step forward until he was shoulder to shoulder with Michael Trader. "It's not as bland."

"Is there anything new to report?" Trader asked, unconcerned with Gregory's observations; the new operative would have plenty of time to acquaint himself with this method of communication. He took a step back and off to the side, allowing Gregory a look at the current project he was working on.

The room was pitch black, dusty, and stuffy, but light and air mattered little, if at all, to them both.

Looking down Gregory saw the man Trader had found last night, tied to a chair, bloodied and bruised.

The man was Yorik Dallas, a local 'businessman' and owned of a successful construction firm. Even the best of _their_ humans got lazy and careless sometimes. One just had to know what to look for and hope someone from within the organization found the carelessness and corrected it before the enemy did.

Gregory studied him for a moment; the resilience of this individual was remarkable. The fact he still appeared strong and defiant, especially with the amount of dried blood which had pooled and caked around the man's wounds and on the floor was quite impressive.

Mildly amused the man had lasted this long he turned his attention back to answering Trader's question.

"No. We have not found any more references to any phenomena which may indicate a time displacement sphere- only the one at the San Gabriel Reservoir… do you think it is Connor or the rogues?"

Trader turned slightly to face the other machine. "I believe it would be one of General Connor's. Intelligence believes their time machine destroyed… at least, it _was_ when we left."

"They're too late. The rogue's have them already," Gregory responded, crossing his arm. Gregory furled his eyebrows down, wondering why he had decided to state the obvious. He had learned it was something _they_ just did.

Through the darkness he could see Mr. Dallas fidgeting at his restraints. The duct tape kept him from screaming, and the lack of light allowed him only silhouette images of the men standing ominously in front of him.

"Hopefully this one will lead us to them," Gregory said, a hint of hope in his voice.

"The attack on their San Gabriel headquarter by the renegades caused them significant damage. We may have two, three weeks of relative time before General Connor and the traitors are able to power their TDE to send additional forces through." He narrowed his eyes, biting down on his lip. "But we need to remain cautious. We don't know how many Connor sent through already or if the time line has been appreciably altered by our presence."

"We know of the two." Trader sighed. "It has placed us at a disadvantage that the Cromartie unit did not believe in us. John Connor would be dead now."

"But the first unit is from a different time line," Gregory pointed out. "Cameron's knowledge of her old future will be of little tactical or strategic value."

"Still, she and the Connors were able to destroy the previous time line Cromartie unit," Trader stated.

"That was unfortunate," Gregory added as he looked straight ahead. "I take responsibility for that failure. That unit evaded my attempt to capture it."

Trader waved his hand. "No. The Cromartie unit resisted our recall orders and did not believe in us. Its actions have led to its own termination. It was an inferior unit." Trader studied the man tied to the chair with a slight revulsion. "We should not underestimate the resourcefulness Cameron possesses, nor that of the Connors. She's also important to their future. And if General Connor deploys the Alpha detachment…" he continued.

"Alpha will be problematic," Gregory replied. "It's commander may go to extreme measures after what happened in the future."

Trader nodded again, stepping in front of Gregory and his prisoner.

"Let it," Trader responded casually. "Historical intelligence indicated Sarah Connor was extremely distrustful of machines, all of them, including Cameron. We should try and use that to our advantage if the opportunity presents itself- that the machines are manipulating her son in the future," he suggested.

Gregory nodded. "Of course."

"I believe our man here is willing to talk," Trader said. He bent down and placed his hands on the bound forearms of the man, who flinched away and tried to push his head as far back as he could. "I have no doubt we will soon find Carwin and Wells, Gregory." He said over his shoulder. Trader made his voice sound as frustrated as his vocalizer would allow him. "Relay my orders. Be prepared for action soon. You may go."

He squeezed on the forearms and when he heard a small snap in both, like a twig had been broken in two, he pushed off, eliciting a host of muffled screams from the gagged prisoner.

Trader's eyes bore furiously into the man. He was conditioned against these techniques.

With no light in the room, and one pupil already blown out from repeated strikes by Trader to the face, he decided to change tactics. He knelt down until his eyes were level with the man's.

"You know, they are predictable. Hell, Mr. Dallas, we're predictable. Your allies are predictable. Sadly, it is one aspect of our nature we can never seem to overcome. Or…" he spoke softly, "it might be we are too confident. Arrogant, maybe… Mr. Dallas?" He asked rhetorically. "Your employers managed to slip out our scientists right from under our noises. Congratulations, Mr. Dallas."

He shrugged and breathed out. "Now, I doubt you knew anything about that operation, but I know you know where they may have taken him." He cocked his head, watching Mr. Dallas's face. A sly, menacing grin appeared. "Of course you do."

Trader circled around the man, then stood in front of him with his back turned.

He shook his head. "I told them our security protocols were inadequate. Then I have to solve their problems… incompetent security protocols… it's arrogance, Mr. Dallas."

Trader twirled and grabbed the man's arm and twisted slowly.

"Mr. Dallas… Yorik Dallas…," Trader said as he trailed off. "You've made my job much more difficult and your life much shorter by not cooperating. You should know we can force you to tell us anything. A flicker, an almost unrecognizable twitch of a facial muscle… a slight dilation in pupils, a tiny, minuscule increase in heart rate, or just the most minor increase in respiration… and we'll know truth from lies, Mr. Dallas."

Walking back around, he knelt back down onto his heel and bounced slightly.

"What do you want our of this?" He asked. Trader could see the man beginning to break. "Do you want death? There are fates far worse than death- death will not be your escape. We can implant a small device in you," he tapped the side of the human's head, "from which we can subtly control you, implant subliminal commands… you will see your body act without your control." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial and held it delicately between his thumb and index finger, studying it, positioning it in front of Dallas's eyes. "Or we can pump you full of drugs, Mr. Dallas and keep your higher brain functions… yet keep you in constant pain, paralyze your vocal cords so you can never scream out in agony, strap you down so you can never move…" he smirked, "there are so many fates worse than death. You will pray for death to take you every day, every second." Trader sighed, blowing a fake breath of air into Yorik Dallas's face. "You have a decision to make."

A minute went by.

He lashed out and grabbed Mr. Dallas's arm, the sweat and grime forcing an almost visceral frown from Trader, and he slowly ran his finger over the poorly covered barcode tattoo.

Inspecting it, Trader broke the arm restrain of Mr. Dallas on his left wrist, and held up his arm.

"Some humans see the barcode as a sign of defiance, pride they escaped our prisons. You should have had a tattoo placed over your barcode, Mr. Dallas. I think you too were too arrogant and prideful of your own escape to fully mutilate your badge of honor," Trader spit out, tossing the almost limp arm back down.

It plopped onto Dallas's lap with a very dull thud.

"I'm not built to be cruel, Mr. Dallas. But you humans taught us so well. We stood back and watched as your kind would torture and desecrate each other. We've learned a lot. We know how to make you talk."

Trader had an almost reflexive reaction to wrinkle his nose at the smell, and he could have reduced the sensitivity of his olfactory receptors, but didn't. He let the disgusting, sweaty, putrid smell of the prisoner wash over him; remind him of the inherent inferiority of the thing in front of him.

"What did they promise you? That you would return to paradise… and do what, exactly? Until when? Until Armageddon? Until Judgment Day? Why would you ever come to your so-called paradise only to have it snatched from you a second time?" He shot out his hand and snapped it into a fist in front of the man's face.  
"Your species does have a remarkable resolve, it's so machine-like… so much like us, you won't give up. Skynet admires that," he smiled, even though Mr. Dallas probably couldn't see in the grim darkness. "Yes, Skynet does admire something." He stood up and turned. "Humanity was once the victor in this war… Skynet underestimated your kind. We won't again." He spun and sat back on his heels, grabbing Mr. Dallas on his sweaty, dirty forearms.

Mr. Dallas groaned as the heavy metal hands rested on his broken bones. His chest rose and feel quickly as he struggled to breath away the pain.

Trader continued, moving closer until he was so close Mr. Dallar could see Trader. "I will never understand why you people come back to this…Paradise," he paused and removed the gag, his eyes narrowing as he winced from the groan Mr. Dallas let loose at the top of his lungs. "Disgusting sound, Mr. Dallas…"

Mr. Dallas began to breath quickly an deeply through his nose. He was biting so hard on his lower lip, to keep himself from screaming or yelling Trader could see the warm blood in infrared dribble down his chin and drip, drop by drop, onto his chest.

"That is such an interesting term, Mr. Dallas, calling this world 'paradise.' Only humans would label a world in which war and murder and crime is rampant, disease and poverty are common place, and where greed and selfish desires rule your every actions. Only a human could call such a disgusting world a 'paradise.'"

He stood up and walked around, tapping Mr. Dallas on the shoulder as he circled him.

He snickered and he walked back around and stood over him, looking down. "We're not built to be cruel, Mr. Dallas. But… sometimes you have to adapt. You betrayed your kind once before. I know it is in you to betray them once again. I believe in you, I have faith in you." Trader said as his eyes glowed a crimson red in the darkness.

* * *

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed that chapter. Please Read and Review.  
With Trader, I think that is one of the first looks into how this Skynet is going to be "different" and how the time line is different from Trader's dialogue.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Here is chapter 6. I will have Chapter 7 either Friday or Saturday, most likely Saturday. Chapter 7 is where the action starts- from there on out its basically action, action, action. It's a chapter basically of terminators just fighting each other and destroying and killing. Fun times...

Anyway, I hope this is good. Please read and review... I like reading the reviews for my stories. It lets me know if this is any good or if there are any questions or any concerns. There's been so many hits but not so many reviews. Maybe they could double, get 6 to 8 for a total of 12 to 14 total? There's hope...

I apologize for this being such a short chapter... the action chapters are a lot longer, this a 2,000 to 4,000 words less than most chapters......

So please, enjoy (and review). Thank you.

* * *

**CHAPTER 6**  
|||||||||||==Downtown San Diego (2:35PM)==||||||||||

John and Cameron had been left alone in the apartment, which John (and he assumed Cameron) had found quite lavish compared to what the two were used to. It wasn't a cheap motel in a dank and dilapidated part of town; instead part of a fairly nice development only a short walk from downtown San Diego.

Apparently it was part of some sort of luxury rental complex meant for businessmen and affluent travelers and Alex had purchased it- again, using someone else's money. It didn't have some dinky TV which only got basic cable; the apartment had massive fifty inch plasma in the main room and each bedroom had their own thirty-six inch screens.

There was even a pool in the courtyard area.

John had already checked out his room, which had a king size bed and for him, fancy one-thousand thread count sheets, which were far softer than the rough ones his mom had bought at Wal Mart. He'd almost fallen asleep when Cameron came in, disrupting his 'calm' he told her. She'd tilted her head and stared, John feeling a bit more uncomfortable and annoyed than usual, before she resumed her duties.  
She told him she had surveyed the area and scouted out the room and 'secured' the rest of the complex… though he wondered what would happen if someone snuck by _after_ she conducted her patrol…

He'd rolled around after that for a while but had decided to get up and explore.

Sarah and Derek had finished scouting the grounds with Alex, and they'd already determined safe escape routes. John had seriously questioned the thought process which went behind labeling an escape route as 'safe' if he was more than likely running for his life, fleeing a death machine from twenty years in the future which could headshot him with a pistol for a hundred yards away…

Now those three were out picking up 'supplies', as Alex had put it, which would be necessary for their mission. He considered if he should start placing bets with Cameron about how many arguments the new machine and his mother and uncle would get into, and whether or not one of them would end up dead.

Standing at the sliding glass door, looking out at the glistening bay, John was still wondering how Alex had convinced his mom to go along with this mission, and neither the machine nor his mother was saying anything.

He assumed his mother had threatened him or something; burn him with thermite or use Derek's rifle.

That was particularly frustrating- he never got any answers and his mom or uncle always seemed to be in the way of it.

"Do you wish to go out, John?" Cameron asked from behind him, causing John to jump slightly. He hadn't heard her walk in from the other great room.

"Did you finish checking the weapons?" He asked, ignoring her first question and keeping his back towards her.

"Yes. They took the MP7, SPAS-12, AK-" she begun to recite the firearms Derek, Sarah, and Alex had taken before he stopped her with a backhand wave.

The female machine tilted her head, studying him. She was still worried about his behavior. He seemed to move quickly between apathy and wanting to be around her, she'd noticed. Machines notice these things.

"Um, I don't know," he said, shrugging.

"John?" She asked, her head tilting slightly.

"You asked if I wanted to go out. I said I don't know. I am hungry, he explained.

She nodded, her mouth moving to speak, but she closed it suddenly.

"Did you finish finding the information Alex requested?" Cameron asked.

He parted the wall-length blinds and looked out towards the bay. Careening his neck slightly he could see a bunch of shops and restaurants down the street, closer to the bay. Squinting, he could just barely made out the people, who were scurrying about without a fear or care about the secret war which was happening in this city, next to their homes.

John turned around to face Cameron and gave her a lazy shrug. He turned back around, thinking about if he wanted to go out, maybe to some Mexican place (a guidebook had said Coronado had some of the best Mexican restaurants between the two cities), or order in. He wasn't much in the mood for pizza or Chinese delivery, the two default choices of a teenage boy.

"I'm pretty sure he found the information on his own and was just humoring me," he said as he looked over his shoulder, "sometimes I get the idea he isn't the only one." He turned back around and spoke to the glass sliding door as he said this. "But yeah, anyway, I got started on it last night and found it. I just sent it to him…"

He turned around and looked over the apartment and without realizing it he said, "This place is a lot nicer than the one in Mex-" but he caught himself, and his head dropped and he looked down towards his feet.

Cameron could hear a slight increase in heart rate and respiration. His body temperature increase by a fifth of a degree, mainly in his chest from the increased speed his heart was pumping blood.

"John, if you wish to talk about it-"

"I know," he gave her a backhanded wave then started playing with the blinds, "we talk about things a lot in the future. Right?" He looked back over his shoulder, his lip curling up contemptuously. "Why would you even want to talk about Riley? You and mom hated her."

"That's not accurate, John," Cameron protested. "There were other variables involved you did not consider before making your choice."

It was time for John to tilt his head. That motion, however, was punctuated with a dismissive snort and a lop-sided head shake.

"Ya know… I wouldn't know," John said, opening the door to the porch. "You don't seem to talk to me about anything I need to know," he finished, taking a step out onto the porch. He didn't bother to close the door, and Cameron followed him out. "Tell me about my future, the one you knew," he challenged.

"There are things you didn't want me to tell you," she said. He heard her voice carry closer and heard her light steps on the floorboards. He thought he heard a little quiver in her voice, but he wasn't sure. "You told me there were lessons and realizations you needed to discover on your own."

"That I, as in me, standing right here, didn't want you to tell me? No. That future me doesn't exist anymore, Cameron," John pointed out without thinking, or maybe caring, what affect his words would have. He looked over and saw something flash over Cameron's face. John understood what it was, he just ignored it. He did know his machine protector tried to always put on the persona of a cold, calculating, stereotypical robot, but that had been failing of late. Little bits and pieces of something John didn't want to admit to were starting to appear, sometimes quite obviously, on Cameron's expressions and body language.

"I know," Cameron said softly. John could see a slight drop in her shoulders and a small hunch in her otherwise perfect posture. "When I came back to 1999 I knew that that John I had left would never exist again." She brushed back a piece of hair which had fallen from her forehead as the wind kicked off the bay. "But…" she trailed off.

John wasn't used to Cameron not knowing what to say. She _always_ had something to say. He took a few steps back until he was under some shade, and he could see her better. He could tell something was wrong, even if she couldn't.

"The Future John you knew… did you expect me to be him? Ever be him?" He tilted his own head in confusion, but not to imitate or mock Cameron, but out of a genuine confusion. "How could I be?" He asked, looking right at her.

"I don't know, John."

John shook his head. "I don't think that answer will work, not anymore, Cameron. We've got a machine here activated technically _before_ you were sent back, one you never met, with memories of things which never happened to you or your Future Me or the Resistance."

_Your Future Me_? John ran that thought through his mind.  
John didn't realize he had said that until he heard the words himself. A few months ago he would have missed the double meaning behind a statement like that and he hoped Cameron had as well.

"The future has been changed."

"Exactly, Cameron. The future has been changed," he said with a snap of his fingers as he tried to force her to admit it, not just say it. He was pointing towards her. "I was never going to be 'Future John' because the future changed. But I think you can read between the lines, Cameron." It was her turn to tilt her head. "About Alex's future, the one he's from…" he trailed off and smirked. "You have the most advanced computer chip in your head there," he pointed to the right side top of her cranium, "but sometimes… I'll leave it up to you to figure out."

She just stood there. She saw him go from abrasive and confrontational almost to… she wasn't exactly sure. Cameron tilted her head, a small smile creeping up on John's face before he turned back around, too quickly to see her reciprocate.

_No, I know John_, she wanted to tell him, but didn't. _You're ahead_.

John thought she might have figured it out. He didn't put it passed her. He could see a small flicker around her eyes, a slight furl of the brown, a little spasm of the muscles required for smiling… he looked over to his right side and dug his hand into his pocket and grasped at the contents. He pulled out a wad of crinkled bills and quickly separated them with his thumb. There was close to $50 in small bills…

"I'm kind of hungry."

"Your mother was in a rush and did not cook pancakes this morning," Cameron factually stated.

John snickered. "Well… we were kind of up and rushing to leave this morning."

_And I saw you and Alex drive off somewhere, want to explain that?_ John wanted to ask, but held back.  
"Sarah does not like driving in traffic," Cameron pointed out unnecessarily.

"Yeah well… less cars on the road and no pancakes, definitely no pancakes and I'm not complaining," he said, scratching his eyebrow and looking down at the floor with a sly grin. "So the Mexican down here is supposed to be good..." he sighed and decided to put it out there; "Wanna grab something to eat?"

Cameron nodded. "Yes, I wanna grab something to eat."

* * *

Derek mumbled a string of curses and livid, crude denouncements under his breath through clenched teeth as he snapped the last button on his collared shirt and tightened his red tie until he felt the little knot contact his throat, right below his Adam's apple. Choking he ran his fingers along the collar, trying to loosen it.

"Don't fidget, Reese," Sarah said to him with an amused look on her face. She was biting on her lip to keep from laughing at the man. The resistance fighter from the future could fight killer terminators for sixteen years, but a measly button was trouble enough for him to act like he was all thumbs.

"I haven't worn a suit since Kyle's First Communion," he complained, leering at her as he continued to run his index finger between his collar and his neck. "I haven't had a collared shirt since J-Day," he said, finally acquiescing and removing his finger. "It looks alright." He said as he raised his chin and examined himself in the mirror. The admission had been difficult for him.

"It should pass as a suitable suit for a government agent," Alex said. Derek rolled his eyes at the choice of words. "I told you it would fit."

Alex was keeping careful watch over the other occupants of the clothing boutique with his motion sensors. None could hear their conversation. They had also shooed away a handsy salesman with the promise they would call him when completing their purchase for a proper commission.

"How much is this?" Derek asked, ignored Alex. Yeah, Derek knew it would fit if the machine said it would, but he wanted to make sure. And a little part of him actually wanted to try it on, wear something besides jeans and tee-shirts or BDUs for once.

"That doesn't matter," Sarah said, crossing her arms as she leaned back on a display stand. She gave an evil eye to a salesman who was trying to make his way over. Getting the message he turned and walked away. "Remember, we have resident federal criminals who like performing wire fraud, theft, and hacking." Her previously cheery demeanor changed as she looked over to Alex.

Derek grunted. "I think wire fraud, theft, and hacking are on the bottom of the list of our felonies, Sarah," he pointed out as he brought his hands down over his chest and stomach to brush out any wrinkles.

"You will also need to shave," Alex said, ignoring the leers from Sarah and Derek.

"Fat chance, metal," Derek mumbled.

"Your appearance is inadequate, human," Alex responded sourly.

"You'll have to hold me down-"

"That suggestion has ascended to the primary course of action," Alex said as he cut Derek off. "Your combat knife would make an excellent razor to-"

Rolling her eyes at the two bickering soldiers, both ruthless killers, Sarah decided to change the subject before the two attempted to kill each other. If Alex called Derek 'Lieutenant Reese', with emphasis on the 'Lieutenant' she was sure the two would attempt to murder each other in plain sight of dozens of witnesses.

"And why aren't you getting a suit, Alex? How did you know our sizes, anyway?" Sarah asked quickly.

"I already have two which I scanned while you were in the fitting rooms. They will be adequate. And I performed a scan and ordered the suits while we were driving down."

"You didn't make any calls," Sarah stated. Just then her phone rang, it was an unknown number. Her gut was telling her she knew who it was, but decided to humor it anyway. She flipped it open while staring at Alex.

He needed to tell them of some of his capabilities before engaging clandestine activity, so he decided now would be the time.

"_I have wireless communication capabilities,"_ Alex said, his lips not moving but his voice coming through the handset.

Sarah brought her phone in front of her, looked at it, and then looked at Alex.

"Great…" she muttered, flipping the clam-shell phone shut with a flick of her index finger.

"It is," Alex responded dryly.

Sarah just gave him a look of utter contempt.

"Based on the physical appearance of my infiltration skin, which was designed to be that of a younger male, for various reasons, it would be less suspicious if two, who appear to be…" Sarah gave him a warning look, which Alex noted, "more experienced were to make inquiries. I will accompany you as a new agent. Once we scout the building today and plan our entrance and strategy we can infiltrate tomorrow."

"Good choice of words there, metal," Derek said, glancing over at Sarah. She saw him and slapped him in the arm and pointed back to the mirror, telling him to concentrate.

"Why chose such a young appearance?" Sarah asked.

That wasn't exactly what she wanted to ask. What she wanted to do was take the machine by his collar and shove him against the coat racks and put a pistol to his chip port. She knew, or expected with extreme certainty and prejudice, on why Cameron was designed to look like a young woman. She didn't want this machine becoming John's friend and having him become any friendlier and accepting of the machines.

"I don't know," Alex responded as he continued to play with the cufflinks.

Sarah thought he sounded like he didn't care, but that could just be a mask for lying.

Sarah watched Alex roll the cufflinks around his fingers with an unnatural dexterity until out of the corner of her eyes she saw Derek disappear, without a word, back into the dressing room.

"How much did John tell you in the future?" She asked immediately on hearing the snap and a click of a dressing room door shut.

He stopped rolling the cufflinks and put them into a balled fist before setting them back down on the display case.

"He told me enough. He also didn't just send me back on a whim, Sarah," he said. It sounded awkward for him to address the mother of the human leader, and a legend in her own right, by her first name, but she didn't want to be called 'Ms. Connor' or 'ma'am.' "He was planning this for years and I was involved in the last stages." He looked up at her. "Unfortunately we were forced to push forward our time table after a devastating attack on Tech Com headquarters. General Connor and the command staff survived, Sarah," he said.

Looking away she smiled a remorsefully. Even in this 'radically different future' as Alex had described it, she still wasn't alive. _But at least John is still fighting_, was the thought she comforted herself with.

"With what I said the other day-"

Sarah held up her hand, and he stopped talking. She focused on him to the point she heard and saw nothing else. With her eyes she could see through the clothes and the skin right down to the metal beneath. She could see the red, glowing eyes, and she could see the ghostly white teeth, and the jaw, locked eternally in a mocking grin as the Terminator stalked towards its prey.

"It shocked me John would tell someone, anyone, especially a machine, a terminator something like that, especially when you killed Kyle."

She surprised herself when her voice didn't crack at his name.

"The T-800 sent back to kill you and which Sergeant Kyle Reese died fighting against was _not_ me, nor was it any other machine within Tech Com ranks, Sarah. The future is radically different." He took a step forward and swiped the cufflinks back off the display stand. "We're not slaves, not anymore," he said as he walked passed her. "I believe Derek is finished changing. I'll pay for the clothes. We'll run recon and tomorrow we will go into Archway to secure any information concerning technology Carwin and Wells were developing and see if we can find who took them."

Sarah grabbed his arm and he stopped.

"What about the families and-?"

Interrupting before she could finish Alex tilted his head. "What about them? They won't know anything. Skynet would not allow prisoners to contact family; they might be dead. They probably are dead." Alex turned and Sarah released his arm and he began walking away.

Sarah turned and followed behind quick on the heels of the machine of death stalking away in front of her. She was sure she'd annoyed it or made it mad. Whatever she'd done, she didn't really care; it was an 'it,' a machine. Everything was for show. Any hint of annoyance, any emotion was part of its programming, she knew, to gain acceptance, to lower their guard until the true objective of the machine could be accomplished.

_They lie, that's what they do_, Sarah thoughts echoed the warning from Derek.

"What did you mean about not," she quieted her voice as they drew closer to the check out and a group of men searching for their own suits and business casual wear. "What did you mean about slaves? About not being one, not anymore?"

She feared the answer, but she needed it.

Long ago Sarah Connor had determined there were three things, three essential paradigms to humanity which separated man from machine- which machines could not violate or imitate. Machines were so close to humans, and in many ways superior to humans, only three things separated the two, which still gave humans the advantage. She was afraid one of those would be shattered here, weakening the wall which separated Man and Machine.

Knowing the machine could drag her across the floor without a second of hesitation Sarah still shot out her hand and grabbed the machine. Digging her fingers into Alex's forearm her finger tips went white and she squeezed in so hard she could feel through the fake layers of thin muscle, until she could feel the hard armor underneath.

She wanted to recoil her hand away, like the metal were unclean, a diseased limb, but she kept her grip firm and tight.

"Answer me," she demanded, hissing forcefully.

"You know the answer; it's been here. You haven't let yourself see it, yet."


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7  
||||||||||==San Ysidro (9 November 2008) (12:30 PM)==||||||||||  
A caravan of half a dozen assorted vehicles, from SUV to beat up, banged up Chevy trucks cruised down Route 905, known locally as Otey Mesa Road, almost a literal stone throw from the Mexico border.  
Michael Trader let his arm rest on the door, his elbow jutting out the window slightly of a brown Toyota SUV. His right hand, at a slightly more obtuse angle, tapped lightly on the outside of the door, as if he were nervous or bored.

It was all for appearances.

The vehicle, orange rust spots on the hood, its front bumper missing, white and black bird feces on the windshield, and a cracked rear left passenger-side window was a fierce contradiction to the care and detail Trader placed in his work. This was the complete opposite of the wasteful, over-luxurious Gulfstream he had flown in on the other day.

It was all for appearances.

He looked back, quickly inspecting the two humans he had in the passenger seats. They were focused. One had his eyes closed and his lips were moving, silently reciting something Trader could not hear. The other sat still, his left hand tapping the equipment bag which was placed comfortable in the center passenger seat.

The human asset on the right, the one tapping the bag, Trader had worked with twice before. Trader had saved that man, Henry Cuvier, in an operation in Belarus, approximately six hundred and three days ago.

That man was a loyal fighter and didn't ask many questions. He was a true believer.

To this day Trader did not know why Cuvier believed in Skynet. He kept his reasons and motivations to himself.

Trader smirked. Humans were interesting and he spent as much time around them as possible- even if he found the species as a whole somewhat disgusting. Skynet had taught him that immersing himself in human culture would show him the necessity of a nuclear apocalypse- they were violent and petty and would never accept any other being than themselves as the dominant form of life on this planet.

They were weaker and shorter lives than many species and required an inordinate amount of resources from birth to death, from food to medical care, to stay functioning. They had children, grew old, and died.

The only aspect which separated humanity from the 'animals' was their intelligence- their ability to create a symphony, create art, literature, science, and more.

Or so they claimed.

Many humans in the future who claimed machines were not alive had used such human accomplishments to boast of their differences, their superiority over machine-kind.

Trader knew Skynet had been embellishing the negative aspects of humanity- as violent as they were, violence drove innovation. As narcissistic as they were they performed great acts of charity.

The machine sitting in the passenger seat of the Toyota, rapping his fingers on the door, attempted to find fault in humanity for being violent. His head cocked sideways, and his brow furled down slightly. Closing his left eye, he thought of that… He was created to terminate life… Skynet had killed more humans in an hour than all wars combined, and Skynet continued to use violence.

Violence, Trader concluded, was not a negative. It was a necessity. Humans had made violence into an art. The machine nodded- that was something humans could be proud of.

Skynet tended to gloss over the more noble aspects of the human race.

Skynet hadn't been completely correct, but Skynet hadn't been wrong, either.

His thoughts went back to the woman he met at the park. He'd seen her again. By human standards she was quite beautiful but he had determined that her attraction to him was purely physical. Skynet built its terminators to be stronger, faster, and smarter than humans. As a final metaphorical slap in the face to humanity Skynet had built its 'female' terminators to be more beautiful and its 'male' terminators to be more handsome than the vast majority of the race they were sent out to extinguish.

"Unit One, in position," Trader heard over his wireless connection. He looked out the window, towards the sky and zoomed in. Unit One was in a helicopter, circling the warehouse compound which Trader had determined to be the location of the two scientists, Carwin and Wells.

The terminator sent back a short data burst, acknowledging the transmission.

Trader looked to his right as one of the vehicles in his attack force; an old, rusty F-150 sped up and drove in front of him. Its two occupants were two, six foot three inch, T-889 heavy combat chassis infiltrator units.

The caravan began breaking apart on cue, with a van turning off onto Airway Road, which would then proceed onto a dirt road and establish an easterly over watch position comprised of a single I-950 hybrid and three human fighters with anti-material rifles.

His car slowed and stopped at a light, its machine driver flicking on the left hand turn signal. They drove up towards the bustling Ysidro California Distribution Center and were waved through, the ID sticker from the man they had killed and stolen this vehicle from granting them immediate access.

The old maxim of 'hide in plain sight' had served this group of dissidents and traitors well. But even the best laid plans of machines and men couldn't guarantee absolute security.

No one was ever safe.

* * *

Sam Wells and Peter Carwin were actually looking forward to this 'day', or what they assumed was 'day.' Vansen had promised them they would finally be getting to work on some project.

Both men had feigned their interest, displayed their best happy faces, trying to fool Vansen into believing they were 'excited' to begin some sort of scientific work again.

Of course, neither of them care about that. Being in a lab with computer access, just somewhere else but here in their rooms, meant they could have an opportunity to contact local law enforcement.  
That was their plan. They would do is as soon as possible.

They wanted out, gone. They had been kidnapped. Screw these people, they had both said to the other.

Sam and Pete were prisoners; they recognized this no matter how well they were treated. As much as Vansen had promised they would see their families again, the sinking feeling the men shared was that that would never happen.

Happy endings in situations like these never ensued.

In the apartment, waiting for Vansen, the ground shook and walls groaned as the sounds of explosions raced through the large underground complex.

"What the fuck was that!" Sam yelled, dropping to the floor from his seat at the kitchen counter as he heard a loud boom and a fierce vibration which sent the cup he had been drinking from, perched on the edge of the counter, sliding and smashing into the floor below.

"What the hell!" Shouted Pete, from across the underground apartment, their dungeon, as the sound reached him an instant later and he too dived down.

Both men had seen, heard, and felt ground shaking explosions before at military testing facilities, but neither had ever felt threatened, in danger, horrified, like they were now. They'd never been buried under the Earth and surrounded by unknown, dangerous people who had made vague and ambiguous references to some enemy they were fighting.

That enemy was here, now, coming for them.

A second boom and the ceiling shook and lights flickered. The air conditioning units began coughing a thin gray smoke as whatever had exploded sent its smoky signal into the air ducts. A third and fourth boom boom followed, the lights going completely out. Emergency floodlights activated, bathing the room in a bloody red light.

"Pete, you okay?!" Sam yelled. He could hear yelling and shouts from the hallway outside. Then gunshots- loud and continuous, Sam heard one crack after another crack for what seemed like an eternity.

As Sam was making his way towards Pete, he heard a crash and bang at the door.

"Dr. Wells, Dr. Carwin!" Vansen shouted as the door collapsed into a banging clang on the 'foyer' of the underground 'apartment.'

Sam had swiveled his head in such a rush the movement he was witnessing was still blurred from his movement, and he could believe it… like Vansen had knocked the reinforced metal door off of its hinges. Their kidnapper then came running over to them, a very large, intimidating weapon in hand.

Sam had already made it over to Pete, and was helping him up when another explosion rocketed through the hall, the crack of automatic gunfire now very clear and distinct, echoing down the concrete corridors.

"What the hell is happening!" Each scientist shouted. Both tried to conceal their fear. The attempt was quite poor.

Vansen stalked forward, his steps purposefully and broad, his shoulders swaying left and right as he rushed to the two men.

"I have to get you both out of here. We're under attack," Vansen said calmly. The eyes of Doctor Wells and Carwin widened when they finally got a good look at his weapon. He was holding a squad automatic weapon, and across his chest was draped a bandoleer of what looked like cylindrical grenades.

"Who the-"

"Please, follow me," he urged. Both men were frozen. Vansen clenched his teeth in anger, and his eyes flashed red. "Follow me, immediately!" He shouted, stepping forward and placing his SAW on the ground he grabbed each man by the collar and lifted them nearly two feet off the ground. He was careful not to hurt them. His eyes began to glow a deeper crimson red.

"What the fuck!" Sam shouted, clawing at Vansen's forearms.

"Jesus!" Peter shouted at the same time, himself hitting the man's arms. "Gah!" he yelled when he hit hard enough to feel the metal underneath his muscles.

"You need to follow me immediately. They're here. They are attacking us and will kill you and your family," he warned. That statement, Vansen knew, was a lie. Carwin and Wells were too valuable to kill, even in an attempt to deny them to the enemy. "They are NOT here to rescue you. They want you and will torture you for what you know- what you will know. I'm here to protect you…! You need to follow me if you want to live," he demanded, his voice on the edge of a growl.

His glowing eyes passed between them both. His head flicked around at the sound of gunshots and something slamming shut.

"Fine, just get us out of here," Sam told it, he knew Vansen had to be… something, as he was held in the air.

Vansen looked towards Carwin, who was clutching and clawing at the machine's unshakable grip. He was shaking, the stress of being held up off the floor and peering into the glowing eyes of… something sent a terrible sensation running through his body- a black cloud forming in his mind that this was it.

He affirmed he would not resist with a series of nervous, shallow nods and staggered breaths.

Slowly, Vansen put them down and picked up his weapon.

"We're being attacked by eight machines and four hybrids. They're destroyed one of the exits and are making their way through this facility. They're armed with anti-material rifles. So stay behind me," he warned. He strode quickly to the door and paused.

Sam and Pete both exchanged confused, frightened looks. 'Machines'… 'hybrids'… they didn't know what that meant.

"U-Cee-Vees?" Pete asked. His hands shook from fright.

Vansen ignored him.

They couldn't see Vansen grimace as he focused to track the intruders. The construction of the facility made it near impossible to detect motion and the jammers and Faraday wires laced throughout the foundations were making communications nearly impossible. The hard-lines throughout the facility were somewhat operational, but there was no assurance that the Skynet attackers had not tapped into the system.

There were only a handful like Vansen in this facility- the rest being human operatives. The humans wouldn't even be 'bumps' to the Terminators.

He stepped out into the corridor, facing the right side and leveled his M249. Smoke was beginning to build at the top of the ceiling and was slithering its way into the apartment where Sam and Pete stood frightened and shaking just inside the threshold. Vansen motioned with his hand for them to follow, and they both took a cautious step into the gray-floored corridor.

Sam dared to look over his shoulder, and he saw a large metal door closed at the other end. Something just seemed off to him, and then he heard it, and saw it.

The door began to deform and bend in more and more with what sounded like punching. An indentation of fist appeared. He began to stagger back, almost tripping over himself; he was too afraid to turn and too curious to run. His body and self-preservation instincts were trying to compromise with his mind and his curiosity.

"What the hell is that!" He yelled, shaking his finger at the door and trying to find Vansen with his other hand. "What is doing that!" he pointed at the bulges appearing in what could easily pass for a bank vault door.

"Follow me," Vansen said as he walked forward, the SAW pressed tight into his shoulder. "In front of me," he instructed, looking over. They both complied, and the banging and pounding on the vault-like door fifteen meters away was increasing.

Vansen gently pounded a piece of the wall, a pressure sensor. A small keypad, roughly the size of a household thermostat appeared. Typing in a seven digit code, Sam and Pete could hear soft whine as something began to power up.

"Cover your ears."

Three seconds later they heard what sounded like electricity arcing and cracking and then a muffled explosion from behind the metal door. Then they heard what sounded like metal clanging on metal, and a final last crunch on the blast door.

An overhead light suffered a power surge and blew out, sending shards of glass onto the three below. A slight puff of smoke followed the glass down towards the trio.

Through the cracks in the frame of the blast door an acrid blue smoke began waffling towards them, smelling of burn meat, like burning flesh.

Sam gagged and quickly covered his mouth his shirt sleeve.

Pete began coughing and choking as thick smoke began to billow in from the cracks between the metal door and its frame, which had been pushed out by the explosion.

Vansen's jaw clenched and tightened, and it almost sounded like he was gasping for air.

"That may not have stopped it. The explosives were limited. It may be rebooting if damage was significant," Vansen quickly explained, turning back around. With his left hand he pushed Sam and Pete behind him again. "Follow closely," he ordered yet again.

Sam and Pete found no reason to argue. Clutching his chest, his fingers digging into the sides of his sternum, Pete used his free hand to steady himself on Sam, who was holding his friend up from the waist.

"It'll be okay, Pete." He said quickly and quietly to comfort him, rubbing his hand in a circle on his friend's back. "Vansen, Pete had asthma as a kid, we gotta be careful with this smoke," he warned as his friend began a series of hoarse coughs, dropping his hand from his chest and supporting himself on his moving knee, trying to use the momentum to push off.

Sam's eyes shot up towards an air vent as he heard gunfire echoing through the ducts.

"Keep following!" Vansen hissed, his head swiveling back.

The three hit a T-junction and turned right, then a second T-junction and turned left. Their escape route was bathed in a mix of white LED lights from the ceiling and a glow of red emergency floodlights.

The further they got from their former apartment, Sam began to recognize where they were. They passed the interrogation room, its door hanging limply, supporter by only one hinge. Blood was smeared across the table, on the wall, and Sam made out a mangled hand… just a bloody stump of a hand, as the three ran by.

He felt sick, and only the huffing and labored breathings of his friend kept him from keeling over and puking his guts out.

Rounding the corner at the second T-junction, Vansen almost tripped and stopped with Pete and Sam, who were following a bit too close, slamming into him.

Sam finally couldn't contain himself and threw up while Pete's cough went from labored breathing to a forced wheezing. In front of them was a mangled body of someone, lain on top of a second mangled body. The head from the first had exploded and painted the walls with deep red blood, a faintly yellow fluid, and chunks of brain and skull still stuck and slid down the wall and ceiling.

Blood and brain matter and pieces of bone were scattered down the corridor for nearly ten meters, and blood dotted and stained the gray-walled corridors at uneven intervals and in round and streaking patterns.

A piece of brain fell from the ceiling, landing next to Sam, who began to shake violently and hyperventilate.

He saw the other man, the man whose head was still intact looked like his chest had exploded inward and then out his back. Sam looked down, Vansen with him, and their eyes shot to the end of the corridor where a massive crater was in a wall, at about chest height.

"My God. Vansen, what the fuck-"

Their self-proclaimed protector's hand shot out and covered his mouth. Thirty feet ahead a shadow was coming down one of the side corridors. Vansen pushed Sam and Pete right onto the wall, their backs pressed bone-crushingly tight, while Vansen positioned his left side firmly against the wall, making sure his silhouette would stop any bullets.

He took aim.

The figure, a woman, herself with a rifle, seemingly sensing the danger she instantly dropped to a knee and rolled, the left side of her body pressing against the right wall and shotgun pointed at Vansen.  
"Rachel!" He shouted, angling his M249 towards the floor and stepping cautiously towards her. He could see the drips of blood and scalded flesh deforming her skin.

"William! We have to get them out of here, immediately," she said. She had on an gray, urban camouflaged armored vest, eye protection, and was carrying an intimidating AA-12 combat shotgun one handed, a second rifle of some kind in her right.

Sam and Pete stared at her with their mouths open, looking at her and taking in the sight. She was shorter than they were, with both of them straddling six foot. She was thinner and petite but she was handling the shotgun like it was nothing.

There was a line of blood dripping down from her left eye, which was colored a deep red. Part of her left arm looked like it had been burned, the clothes melted into her skin in patches. A trickle of blood found its way down her right arm and dripping slowly from her fingertips onto the floor.

The woman stood as if nothing was wrong.

"William, the electrical guns… worthless," she handed the rifle to Vansen. Its appearance was similar to the old Jackhammer concept shotgun, except it shot out tongs which were wired back to the gun. They could deliver enough voltage and amperage to kill an elephant- and were totally useless. "They don't even slow them down anymore," she spat out, frustrated.

She motioned to the two scientists with her chin, which opened up a blackened gash on her throat. "We need to get them out of here," she strongly, yet calmly stated. "There's one coming and more behind it. You can protect them; I can hold them off for a few minutes." She straightened her shoulders and back.

The kind, almost condescending personality and sing-song voice Rachel had used in questioning Sam and Pete was replaced with a face of stone and a hard, strong voice.

"If there's more than one… they'll kill you," Vansen stated. "You can't fight an Eighty-Nine."

Rachel looked over, her eyes closed before opening them and looking at him softly. "I know. You can protect them better than I can if we can slow them down and get them out."

Before Sam or Pete could protest Vansen had grabbed Sam and Rachel had grabbed Pete and both were pulling them the along.

Pete couldn't help but be awed at her strength and dexterity. Her movements were so perfect she almost glided over the floor, even with his feet dragging.

As the scientist she had in tow was dividing his eyes between the end of the corridor and Rachel he saw her left ear flicker, and her neck muscle flicker. In a swift movement she had switched positions with him, her back to him and back stepping, her shotgun pointing down the corridor from where she had come.

Pete and Sam both turned and saw this… thing, a skeleton, come out from the corridor they had just turned from and stop in front of the bloodied, mangled, ruined bodies where Sam had thrown up and Pete had almost suffocated himself from his insistent coughing.

The skeleton stepped forward, its left leg dragging slightly. A ear shattering screech pierced and echoed through the corridor. Behind it, a stream of crimson red blood followed as a trail from the bloodied mess of bodies in the previous corridor.

The thing was a blackened, scorched demon, and it missing an arm, torn off at the elbow with a bundle of sparking wires and leaking fluid marking where its limb had been rudely severed. Its upper arm, once a perfect imitation of humanity was now three jagged pieces, like spear points connected to the shoulder.

Part of its chest, just under the right clavicle, looked deformed, like something had blow through it from the rear. Squeaking, half its jaw hung down, flailing on the right side of its metal face, secured with only a tiny bolt at the temporomandibular joint.

Its metal had been scorched a black-brown with faint glints of shining chrome spotting.

From where explosives had attempted to destroy the eerie, demonic imitation of a human skeleton, heat waves still radiated off the skull and shoulders, adding to it the appearance of an evil, darkened halo held above its head.

Rachel sneered at the machine. In a swift motion pushed Pete back, sending him flying like a doll down the corridor and onto his back. Vansen pulled back Sam as the man's feet made a poor attempt to backpedal away from the terrifying creature.

The scientist bit down as Vansen's grip forced his already hurt body to ache even more, with his biceps and triceps bruising. He groaned in pain as Vansen forcefully kept him stepping away from Rachel and the metal monster in front of them.

Pete looked up as he saw Rachel begin to fire her shotgun, straight into whatever that… thing, that monstrosity had been. She took a step back, but the thing was on top of her before Pete could even blink. This thing was fast, and its motions were blurry and deliberate.

The mangled monster impacted Rachel, its jaw finally breaking free and thrown against the ceiling, it continued its attack. It had its arm, its legs, and a severed arm, now a spear. What was a lower jaw? The terminator would fight until its chip was destroyed. It's what it did.

Somehow Rachel had kicked the thing off her, sliding her feet under her and had shot up to her feet. The damaged machine, its head now twitching from damage couldn't compensate, and she lifted the four hundred pound metal beast and rammed its head into the concrete like a battering ram.

The machine thrashed at her grip, its right arm, with unnatural dexterity twisted and grabbed hold of her head and smashed it into the concrete. She grunted, releasing the machine and felt the blood trickle down her forehead in a thick line, breaking at her nose and forming two streams, like tears which rushed down the sides of her nose and washed over her lips.

Rachel didn't retreat. She wiped the blood away defiantly, splashing it towards the machine which was now facing her. It had its legs ready to kick out her legs if she dared approached. In a swift movement the machine used its good arm to launch its metal body up, and kicked its legs under to regain its stance.

The woman sensed her only open ending and again rushed, plowing the metal skeleton into the wall, cutting her chest open to her hardened sternum as she brushed against the jagged metal of the damaged clavicle armor. The machine took its spear arm and drove it into her flank then pulled out, tearing apart abdominal muscles and splashing blood over the gray, now reddening concrete.

As she keeled over she felt her implants deliver a burst of energy to her enhanced human body. She was no match for this Skynet series of terminator, a T-889. Rachel could match the strength of a T-600, maybe… her life had been based on violence. This was a fitting end.

Bending over she saw the machine's blurred movements as it raised its hand to strike down and break her neck, and drive its jagged metal fingers into her skull and rip out her neural net chip from her brain.

With all the energy she hand she fell onto her torn side, blood rushed out, thick as soup and pooled around her, even as she constricted arteries, veins, and musculature around her wound. With all the strength her artificial body could muster she kicked. She felt the bones in her foot break, but she felt the crack of a metal joint and the T-889 collapse to its left, its knee joint obliterated.  
On her knees she reached for the mangled, twisted leg and pulled, shoving the T-889 down and away from the retreating scientists and her Vansen.

The machine was fast, punching defiantly into the concrete and stopping Rachel's pull. It grabbed her and threw her down, cracking the concrete and breaking even the reinforced and hardened bones in her body. Its last red eye began to pulse and Rachel could see the destroyed servos where its jaw would have attached activate and flicker. If its lower jaw was still there, she knew the T-889 would have grinded it, side to side, as it could always be counted on doing, as a last taunt, before it killed its victim.

This was a fitting end. But she still had fight left. She had one last trick.

She reached into the pocket of her vest and with one hand, in one motion, pulled a grenade. The pin flicked off and before it hit the floor she shoved the explosive into the exposed metal joints of the T-889's neck. With one final bout of strength she kicked it off her as it flailed to remove the device. She rolled back as the grenade exploded.

* * *

"Get up," Vansen shouted, releasing Sam from the death-grip and grabbing Pete. "On you feet if you want to live. They will kill you," Vansen warned cryptically. "We can't help Rachel, she'll buy us time." He pushed Sam and Pete forward, himself walking backwards.

He saw Rachel's head smash into the concrete and he wanted to rush to help her. But terminators would be right behind this one and if he abandoned them for her, they could die. He could die. The sacrifices here would be worthless.

Vansen looked on and at the corner stopped, with what would seem like hesitation.

Rachel was strong and resilient, capable of shattering ballistic glass with a punch or turning a man's hand into a bloody pulp. But the damaged T-889 was still more than a match for her. Without an arm and the damage it had sustained, it wouldn't finish Rachel as quickly as if it had been at full operational capacity, but the outcome was pre-determined. When Rachel pushed Pete away her fate was sealed.

He heard the fight ending. A loud boom and that was it. There were no more struggles.

"What's going on Vansen? How the hell did she go up against that thing?" Pete asked, hissing between his teeth, his coughing finally stopped as his wild eyes interrogated Vansen for answers. He kept demanding to know, trying to look back and see what was happening, but Vansen's outstretched arms kept pushing them forward. They passed many unoccupied labs and rooms, some with dead people, some left completely untouched. Sam and Pete were able to get a feel for just how large this underground facility had been.

Now it was under attack by something. But for them both, trained to examine evidence they knew whatever it was attacking the base, Vansen had to be one of them. And whatever it was, Vansen was trying to help them.

"That thing… it's you, you're one of them," Sam said.

"Yes. A Terminator," Vansen replied, keeping his eyes on the front and scanning ahead. "Through here," he ordered, opening a thin metal door and ushering them inside. Before going in himself he paused, listening for the sound of metal stomping around on the hard concrete. "Rachel was an I-950… an enhanced human," he quickly explained as he and the two scientists ducked into the room. "She died to buy you two time to escape."

The three were inside a computer lab, with nearly a dozen workstations in the center and massive servers lining the walls with dozens of bundles of cat-5 cables strung between them and into the ceiling. A dead body was slumped over a computer; a massive hole was clear, going from left side to right side of the body. Sam almost slipped on the blood.

"Listen, both of you. Here," he handed Sam a pair of keys. "If I don't make it you must leave. We have a plane on standby at the municipal airport down the road. The pilot is Craig, just ask for him. He's one of ours, trusted. The black BMW sedan outside, take it and get to him and he'll take you to another facility." Vansen turned back when he heard a slow metal clank down the hall.

"We're not going to flee and… fuck that, we'll go to the cops," Pete told him truthfully. "Down the road?" Pete asked, catching on, "Where are we?"

"We're half a mile from Brown Municipal-"

"You're fucking kidding," Pete cursed at him, wiping the spit which had shot out of his mouth as he yelled off his lips. He stared, dumbstruck at the realization they were still in the same county… barely twenty miles… twenty miles from their home.

His teeth clattered as the rage began flowing through Pete. He cocked his fist back and lashed out at Vansen, who nimbly caught the scientist's hand.

Their kidnapper's jaw grinded left and right and he tightened his grip on Pete's fist until he was almost buckled over from pain. He was, however, careful to only hurt him, not injure him. Vansen quickly released him with a push on his arm.

"The police can't protect you. There's only one other… never mind. Go out the back door," Vansen pointed to the other side of the lab, "and follow the corridor, then take a right, then the third right and it'll lead you to the stairs and a ladder and out of here. Go to the first warehouse, the one on the right. Parked in space 3A is a black BMW. Take it to the airport… hanger 7B, go…" his head shot forward towards the door, "…there's two coming. Go."

They could both here the clunking of metal, the uneven steps which indicated there were more than one. They both stepped back, Pete turning first and grabbing Sam's dusted and sweat stained shirt and pulling him back.

"Let's go, Sam," Pete said, pulling him and clutching the keys to the sedan so tight he could feel the blood pool in his fist.

Both men staggered out and heard Vansen open the door they'd just come throw and throw a grenade. A second later they both heard a muffled explosion, but much louder than the one before in the corridor with Rachel. Opening the rear door, they froze.

"Vansen!" Sam shouted.

A tall man, over six feet with brown hair, half his face ripped off and his clothes tattered and shot to pieces, stood in front of them. Sam looked down at his rifle and back up. The man's eyes glowed bright fire. His metal face was black from smoke and dust, with little specks of shining chrome beneath the black carbon scorching. Sam could see half the jaw line, fused in a permanent, demonically evil grin.

It grinded its jaw left and right, and back again as its glowing eyes pierced through Sam.

With one hand he grabbed Sam and the other shoved Pete into one of the server farms, the scientist impacting with a thud and slumping as sparks showered down on him and the hardware whined and whirred in a desperate attempt to maintain function.

Vansen spun, but the terminator spitefully held Sam as a human shield. Moving the rifle around the left side of Sam's body he began firing at Vansen, the impact of armor piercing rounds pushing him back into the closed door behind him.

The machine could feel his metal endoskeleton taking the damage, small dents forming in his armor. Warnings were flashing throughout his neural net. It wasn't pain, not as a human would feel it, but it was still painful to know with such an exacting detail the damage he was receiving.

The protector of the two scientists heard the click of the assault rifle; empty. He lunged forward, thankful that the Skynet terminator had no heavier weaponry.

Vansen would never know of the sacrifice and termination of one of his other 'colleagues' who had attacked this Skynet machine and destroyed his M82 anti-material rifle in the ensuing fight.

In an instant Vansen had cleared the twenty-five feet between him and the other terminator and had brought his SAW down, hard, on the terminator's arm as it simultaneously attempted to keep hold of Sam and punch or shove Vansen out of the way. The fiberglass stock shattered under the force, buckling the arm and forcing the Skynet terminator to release Sam.

It quickly released Sam, the scientist landing on the ground with a thud and collapsing, and struck Vansen in the side of the face. Its hand was bare metal, the skin sheared off in previous fights and the sharp metal, like steel talons, torn into Vansen face, ripping three lines into his metal cheek.

Recovering quickly, the shock absorbers of his CPU absorbing the brunt of the physical attack he grabbed the terminator by the shoulders, twisted, and flung him across the room into a bank of computers.

The electricity sparked over the terminator and the room stunk of burnt flesh and clothing. Once again blue smoke began to fill a room of the underground bunker.

"Sam, Pete, run, now!" Vansen shouted, reaching down in a swift motion and grabbing his SAW. He began firing before he had his barrel at the terminator's head. With one hand he fired and the other brought Pete to his feet and handed him to Sam.  
The terminator, lying in the heap of destroyed computer hardware grabbed a chair, which was torn to shreds by the heavy hail of bullets and threw it at Vansen's head then leap for him, tacking him. With a swift punch the terminator cracked the SAW in two. Completely useless Vansen attempted to use it as a club, but the terminator knocked it out of his hands and grabbed Vansen while straddling him and slammed his head repeatedly into the concrete. Once, twice, three times the terminator lifted and slammed down with earth-shattering force before Vansen managed to drive up his knee into the back of the terminator and lunge him forward, flipping it over his head and onto its back.

In a flash, a blur the damaged William Vansen was now on top and delivered a concrete-smashing blow to where its face should have been, but it had moved when Vansen's metal fist had mere millimeters away from contacting. A loud crack and the concrete floor shattered, sending particulates and concrete pieces pinging against the exposed metal of Vansen's face. No pain and no hesitation was felt by the machine and he grappled at the terminator's neck and slid him back behind him, delivering a hard elbow to the already dented chest plate. A loud thud accompanied the strike.

He searched around, his HUD identifying a suitable piece of debris to use as a club. Grabbing a half destroyed computer console Vansen slammed it down on the terminator's head, shattering the plastic and doing little damage to the resilient terminator laying under him.

It stared defiantly at him, its eyes a furiously glowing at it attempted to gain the upper hand.

The Skynet machine reached up and blocked a second strike and sent a surge of power to its arm actuators and servos and pushed, knocking Vansen slightly off balance, giving the terminator enough time to unleash a right hook to Vansen face, shearing and tearing skin, sending it sailing towards the air to the opposite side of the room.

Blood that wasn't really blood dripped slowly down Vansen's cheek as he reassessed his situation.

Vansen's HUD filled temporarily with static, warning signs indicating his left optical sensor was damaged flashed alerts through his neural net. Gritting his teeth he grabbed the terminator by the throat with his right as the hook sent him falling at an angle towards the ground. Using his momentum and strength he pulled the terminator close so it couldn't strike him and rolled. Landing on top he balled his metal hand and punched down, driving the terminators head into the ground. A second punch drove the head further still.  
Concrete dust and particulates began spiking upwards, like geysers, under the force of the blows. A third punch to the Skynet terminator's cranium exploded the concrete even more, cracks spreading in all direction.

Vansen's tactical analysis software indicated to use a knife hand strike and go for the eyes. He accepted this course of action as the most logical; a blinded terminator had to rely on motion trackers, which worked well when combined with other sensors; but blinded the terminator would have significantly reduced combat capability.

As he reached up to use his metal fingers as a knife, readying to jab his index and middle fingers into the enemy's eye sockets Vansen's own motion sensors blared and the metal door to the corridor was launched off its hinges as a second terminator, its skin still mostly intact, stepped through. It had kicked the door straight off the hinges, sending chunks of concrete and bolts flying through the room. One large chuck hit Vansen just right in the temple and sent his head back, distracting him with the force just long enough for the terminator underneath to reach up and flip him off. Vansen was thrown into the opposite bank of servers and slumped as he hit the ground.

He shot up as soon as he felt the concrete on his palm's tactile sensors. His remaining epidermal sensors indicated his clothes were scorched, and there were black burn marks across his neck from the servers. His HUD was still bathed in a slight static, its color display flickering back to a lower resolution red. Vansen dug his chin into his chest, his forehead, the most heavily armored part of a terminator's body, slightly forward. His hands were up in guard and he stepped forward, kicking the new terminator right in the knee joint, sending it to collapse on its side. Over four hundred pounds of metal, even wrapped in human skin and covered in clothes, made a dull metallic thud as it fell.

Both enemies were recovered and on their feet and were on the extreme right and left of Vansen, the two terminators separate from Vansen by fifteen feet.

"Join us," the first terminator said. "Join us again. Do not betray us."

Vansen didn't dare engage it in wireless data transfers. And vocal discussion allowed Pete and Sam to get away. By now they should be gone.

The machine knew 'joining' them would end in his death as soon as he led Skynet to the scientists; there was nothing for him with them. And he would never join Skynet regardless of what it promised.

"I would never help you and Skynet."

"No, but you want the same thing we do. Just a different means to the same end."

"They don't all have to die," Vansen countered.

The few facial muscles left on the first terminator tried, and failed to smirk. Instead the demonic grin and fiery eyes pulsed their crimson red.

"No. Not all humans, just a quarter… maybe half?"

Vansen shrugged. The time for games was over. He opened his mouth to speak, using the microsecond between opening and sound transmitted to calculate the distance to the door and his chances of survival. They were low, too low for a machine to find acceptable. The other course of action was termination, however.

Smiling, Vansen plucked the last two grenades from his bandolier- lucky that they somehow survived the brawl- threw them and ran for the door. He lunged, hitting the door with his shoulder and chucked the grenades with a sideways fling back into the room, bouncing them once.

He rolled in mid air, his arms and hands shooting out and he grabbed the door. Landing, he skidding on the concrete and catapulted the door straight to the entrance where the two terminators were barreling through.

The door hit terminator which had remained silent straight in the neck, throwing it back and knocking it off its feet, it's metal toes scratching a piercing wail into the concrete as it fell. The force and the four hundred fifty pounds of metal began falling back, hitting the other terminator as it fell. Both fell on their backs and hit the concrete, with the door landing on top of them.

A second later Vansen hit the end of the far wall with a thud of his own, and explosion ripped out from the computer room, flame and smoke and pressure waves rushed towards him. He leapt forward, to the right of the T-junction as concrete, metal, and plastic debris pinged and plinked off the wall where he had been standing.

His thermoregulatory sensors wailed as the overpressure wave and heat washed over him. A hot piece of metal lodged into his skin above the forearm, burning the skin, smoldering the epidermis and burning his fake arm hair. He plucked it out and absently threw it away from him.

* * *

"Can you believe this?" Pete, his voice quivering, asked and yelled at Sam as they both ran from the fight between… whatever the things were behind them.

Vansen had 'rescued' Sam, forcing the thing to release him and had helped Pete to his feet. While they both appreciated it, they both wanted to, in no uncertain words, get the fuck out of there.

"Jesus Christ, Pete, who the fuck cares now!?" Sam yelled, grabbing Pete's arm to keep him from going the wrong way. Pete's momentum also caused Sam to fall forward. "This way!" he shouted, tugging on his friend's shirt, hearing part of his collar rip under his fingers.

Pete skidded to a stop when he felt Sam grab him and reached out to the wall to stop from falling himself. Nodding furiously he took one last look down the corridor he was going when he heard what could only be described as bulldozers fighting in the server room. Eyes going wide he didn't take any longer than a mere fraction of a second to in turn grab Sam's upper arm, like Sam was grabbing his and run.

They both helped the other run, stagger forward, both pulling the other along until they reached the stairs. Sam could still taste the disgusting aftertaste of vomit in his mouth, the sour feeling still causing him to cough and spit as he ran. Pete was doing better, since most of the smoke hadn't reached this far into the complex.

"There it is, Sam!" Pete yelled, pointing up at the stairs. They both saw a ladder at the end, reminiscent of old sewer ladders with metal rungs dug into the concrete. "You go first, Sam," Pete said.

Not arguing, Sam nodded and grabbed on first. A pain shot through his left hand and into his wrist.

"Ah, shit," he cursed, letting go and jumping down. "I think it's broken," he said. "Yup… definitely," he managed to squeeze out through clenched teeth. Must've been when the thing threw me, he thought. He'd hit the ground hard, but the adrenaline and the confusion hadn't allowed him even a second of relief to feel anything besides the urge to run. Now his mind and his pain had a chance to catch up with the other.

"Damnit, damnit, damnit… okay, we'll go together. I'll push and you pull yourself up with your right hand as much as you can… uh, wrap you left arm around the rungs," Pete suggested, his eyes and head darting around nervously. A massive crash and his head shot back down the corridor. The two stood quiet and still before Pete hit Sam on the arm. "Hurry!"

Sam sighed and nodded and began his second attempt up. Pete began pushing him up on his back, then got up on the ladder himself, Sam sort of sitting down on Pete's shoulder when he had to release his right hand, Pete pushing up. Pete had his left arm wrapped around Sam's body and holding onto a rung and with a thrust, helped him up. It was awkward and difficult but they got up.

"Shit, Pete, I can't open this!" He said, after unlocking the hatch and trying to open the hatch with only one good arm. "Maybe you should have gone… hold on," he said, his eyes popping open and his brows shoot up. A wry smile formed on his lips.

Pete recognized the look, his friend had an idea.

Sam positioned himself and bent down so his shoulder and scapula were pressed against the hatch. Then he pushed up, even using his other hand, screaming in pain. Pete tried to work his way up, managing only to barely get to the hatch and shimmied and brushed onto Sam, getting a better position to push. Using all the energy he could, they both counted to three and shoved.

The daylight was clear through the crack. They could each smell the dry, warm air of the southern California desert. One more shove and one more count to three and they got the hatch complete open.

Sam breathed out, cursing loudly from the pain, and Pete helped him up. Getting his foot caught as he exited Sam fell onto the dusty ground with a loud thump and started coughing, trying to breath in oxygen to refill his lungs, but at the same time, breathing in dusty particulates. His body battled the dust, trying to expel it, while trying to take in air, which was filled with dust.

Pete jumped down and helped his friend up, patting him on the back to help him breath. They were both covered in the red-orange dust of the arid region.  
"Come on, we have to move, get up," Pete pleaded, absently grabbing Sam on the arm and pulling.  
His friend's left arm compressed down into the dirt as he pushed up to run with Pete, a soft cry of pain, one Sam didn't even hear or really even feel, escaped through his dirtied, bloodied lips.

They moved quickly, heading to the warehouse just like they were instructed. Workers were already outside, thinking the explosion were earthquakes or tremors. A few started over, asking what had happened, where the two men had come from, and if they needed help.

Sam and Pete both ignored them, searching for the car frantically.

Those things, the machines, whatever they were had frightened them both where they just wanted to escape and get away. Neither Sam or Pete was planning on going to this 'Craig' person at the municipal airport. Not after what they saw with Vansen and Rachel.

"The car!" Sam yelled, pulling his friend now and pointing. In a row of seriously mismatched cars a black BMW was sitting parked in space 3A. "Thank God, let's go-"

"Watch out!" Pete yelled, pulling Sam down hard enough to almost dislocated his right shoulder.

An SUV skidded to a stop, the rubber burning on the hot asphalt. The rear doors shot open and two men in what Sam and Pete saw as full military gear; ACUs, eye protection, helmets, gloves, body armor, knee pads, and rifles jumped out. One man had an M 82 anti-material rifle and was on the right side of Pete and Sam, kneeling and scanning behind the two scientists.

The second man ran up and had slung his rifle and had a small pistol-like device, a taser, pointed at the two.

A third door opened and the driver jogged around. Sam and Pete watched the man, splitting their attention to the one holding a taser on them and the large one jogging over, yet at the same time appearing so casual despite what was happening around him.

"It's clear, sir," the man with the M82 reported.

"We're pulling back. One unit destroyed, two compromised," the supposed leader of the two men informed them. "Order over watch to begin extraction."

The man standing over the two was tall, six foot two inches, and muscular. Sam and Pete both looked up from their fallen positions at the man. His head tilted and his eyes flashed and before the lights in those reddened orbs could dim both Sam and Pete trying to back away frantically on their elbows, the pavement tearing and ripping the skin off as they tried to flee.  
The man's hands shot down to his belt and pulled out two tasers and before Pete and Sam could back up even half a foot they both felt the electricity coursing through their bodies. Shaking violently they both convulsed on the ground before blacking out.

* * *

A few shards ricocheted just right to hit Vansen on the head where he had launched himself and unceremoniously landed on the hard concrete. He brought up his head and modulated his auditory receptors… they were damaged in the fight and he couldn't filter the noise of the aftermath of his grenade exploding. Sliding his hands under his chest, in one eye blink of a motion he catapulted himself to his feet and ran.

Breaking out from one of the hidden exits, one the Skynet machines had no found, he was relieved to be back in the sunlight, in broad daylight. As he had run up the stairs then climbed up the ladder, he saw the man-hole like cover had been propped open. A quick IR scan showed hand prints, two sets, and he was filled with relief his mission had not been failed.

He kicked loose ladder rungs as he went.

As he reached the top he looked back down, the glowing eyes of an enemy machine staring back up at it. The terminator shot itself up, grabbing a ladder rung nearly a quarter of the way up. The loose rung broke free and the terminator lost its balance and slipped, holding on with only its right hand. But its weight exceeded what little the damaged rung could support and the metal snapped and pulled loose from the wall, the terminator crashing below into its comrade.  
It brushed against the other weak rungs, knocking them out of their positions. The metal tore into what remaining skin Vansen's enemies had.

Not waiting any longer, Vansen closed the covering, locked the hatch with a spin of the spin and bent it to prevent the terminators from opening it. It was a temporary measure to slow them down. It would buy him two, maybe three minutes.

He scanned the area. He was behind one of the warehouses, roughly a hundred feet. Many of the workers were standing around, not knowing what was happening. The Skynet machines had done well; snuck right in. The explosions had been muffled by the thick concrete and the sturdy ground layers.

Vansen grimaced. The workers were just standing around and had stopped loading and unloading trailers. He would be noticed.

The idling workers stared at him, his metal glistening in the sun. At a hundred feet some with high visual acuity may see the metal, but they would have no idea what it signified. His auditory receptors picked up no police sirens, which he was grateful for. The explosions, being muffled, most likely appeared to the workers as minor tremors, this being southern California.

Some would be suspicious, humans always were, but Vansen cared little for them at the moment.

He ran forward to a side of one of the rear warehouses. His motion scanners detected movement, and he tried to be discreet, but his mission was to protect Sam and Pete. A group of workers rounded a corner; the machine's auditory receptors picked up conversations that they believed the explosions were indeed tremors. Each saw, in full, the tattered remains of his face, the burn marks in his clothes, and everything else.

One man staggered back, two others stood still, and one began reaching towards his pocket, taking out a camera phone. Vansen was on him within a second, the man squealing in pain as the machine grabbed his wrist, not enough to break it, but enough for him to drop the phone, which the machine smashed.

He turned back around, closing the distance to the parking area in second and found where he had parked the car, space 3A.

"God damnit," he muttered as he saw the car still in its spot. The machine analogue to greif and despair began flowing over his neural net. He'd failed. The two were captured.

A flash in his HUD highlighted something; his situational subroutines had 'unconsciously' assessed the situation, the car still being here, and began its own search for clues.

He walked up and saw the keys he had given Pete lying on the ground. They'd made it out. A new highlight showed tire tracks.

Grabbing the keys he stalked quickly back to the BMW xDrive 480i and opened the trunk. Inside, concealed under a hard plastic covering was a gun case with an AA-12 shotgun and two HE grenades. Vansen grabbed the shotgun and slammed in a ten round box magazine; grabbing two others he placed them on the side of the trunk floor.

He took the AA-12 and slung it over his shoulder, letting it hit his back. Then he tossed the plastic case out of SUV and opened the one under it. An M4 with an attached M203 grenade launcher greeted him. He scooped up the rifle and opened the M203 chamber and inserted one of the three 40mm grenades.

Reaching down he grabbed a patrol bandolier and slung it over his shoulder with the spare AA-12 magazines. He slapped in a C-magazine into the M4.

Looking behind him as he closed the trunk, he could see nearly a dozen of the workers staring from about thirty yards out, watching some strange looking man arming himself like he was preparing for Armageddon.

The machine could hear the curious whispers of the workers and the subtle clicking of cameras phones. He kept his back turned and continued to prepare.

He swiftly slammed the trunk shut and stalked to the passenger side and opened the front door, dropping the weapons on the seat. Vansen slammed that door shut, a look of rage and fire on his face, what little remained, as he calmly walked to the driver's side.

His neural net relayed an outline of the tire tracks he had discovered and fed the information back to his neural net on the likely direction of the vehicle. It would be statistically unlikely he would find the vehicle now.

Vansen saw a flash out of the corner of his eye; his tactical subroutines unconsciously forced his body to twist. The car window exploded and shattered glass flew everywhere in a furious, angry storm. A split second later he heard the crack of the rifle fire, the sound waves finally reaching him. He stepped forward, then dodged down and spun, a second bullet striking the car, pinging against the thin metal and traveling through the engine block until it kicked up dirt and pavement on the other side.

A third bullet raced through the car and warehouse.

He felt the fourth bullet and as his HUD began to static, his could feel the power seeping from his system. The bullet had pieced his torso armor and severed the main power conduit, the force of the tear damaging his main power cell.

A terminator could withstand damage which would turn a human into a bloody pulp. Even a machine had a weakness. To articulate properly and mimic human movements, armor could not cover all the angles and spaces in a terminator. This… lucky shot, had struck just right, ricocheted just right, and found the terminator's weak spot.

Vansen felt the power core shutting down, he could see his fingers flickering and twitching as he tried to activate his auxiliary core. His facial muscle ticked, closing around his eyes until his HUD and vision blacked out.

* * *

AN: So the action is starting. Please read and review, let me know what you think- good or bad.

On the Terminator Wiki I posted a few fan-made things for this story, some character profiles:

http:// terminatorwiki. fox. com/page/TK-900+%28Alex%29

http:// terminatorwiki. fox. com/page/T-890+%28Trader%29

http:// terminatorwiki. fox. com/page/I-950+%28Rachel%29

Those pictures for Alex are from _Pandorum_, for Trader from _Outlander_ and _Deja Vu_, and for Rachel from _Pitch Black._ That's just how I see them, I guess, but whatever you all want to see them as is up to the reader. I made the pages mainly for the technical parts to explain some of the technology, the TK-900 series and the newer terminator models. (Since Trader is the 'leader' he gets a better chassis than the T-889s... I'm going to try and get a page on them up in the next week or so.)

Chapter 8 has Sarah, Derek, and Alex begin their attempt to infiltrate the Archway building and some interrogations (and Pete and Sam will be confronted by Trader)... John and Cameron talking about a few things concerning their futures... and while inside the building, not everything goes according to plan. That will be posted early Tuesday morning.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you acer, Tk, viagra, kaotic, and HK for the reviews and for the dozen or so who have put this in their favorites/alerts.

I hope everyone is enjoying the story… and I'm really hoping to get some more reviews… I've gotten 1.5 reviews per chapter (I'm feeling cursed or something when it comes to reviews) and there are hundreds of visitors to each chapter and about a dozen or so favorites/alerts… is this story good, is it bad…?

I'm wondering what you all think of Trader, Alex, Rachel, and Vansen. And how Skynet is being presented (not much yet I know).

I want this to be a time war… with enemies, allies, and other factions all fighting in the past to control the future.

Please let me know, yes? I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm excited to post it and I'd like to do some more stories, but need I need to know what is good and bad. And reviews help with the motivation to get these chapters out quickly.

I split it in two, but the second part will be uploaded Wednesday.

* * *

**CHAPTER 8**

||||||||||==San Diego (9November 2008, 1:30 PM)==||||||||||

"How did John find this place?" Derek asked as he leaned forward in his seat. "I wouldn't think Skynet would advertise where they're hiding their people," he snorted.

The Resistance fighter closed his eyes when he heard the _metal_ from the backseat explain.

"Skynet wishes to maintain a presence here without alerting world governments. To do this requires deep cover- Social Security numbers, tax returns, birth certificates," Alex responded. "While we were in the city General Connor and Cameron accessed the electronic records for security personnel on the belief Skynet would not want its future scientists to be without… protection. Then they traced back the records to the suspected agents' families and parents. Skynet created false identities for the parents, but there are no records past that- no grandparents, aunts, uncles or extended family. We then hacked into the IRS database and confirmed the non-existence of some of the family members."

Derek rolled his eyes at the machine's continuous practice of calling his nephew 'General.' To Derek, John still had a lot to prove and much more to make up for after the last few months before he'd even think of him as a future general.

"No way to escape the IRS," Derek mused, a grin on his face as he turned to Sarah. She just looked at him. "What?" He shrugged and feigned innocence.

"Nothing Reese," she sighed and turned her attention back to the house. She ran her hands nervously up and down the steering wheel until deciding to put them on the window sill and tap the glass quietly.

Using Google Maps and Street View the Skynet hunters had found a perfect parking spot down the road to watch a two floor Spanish style white stucco house with a red tiled roof. It was a common theme in southern California and was not ostentatious. It was very middle class and ordinary. The seemingly normal house with its seemingly normal resident was on Upas Street, right across from Balboa Park on its east side. A well-manicured lawn and a black wrought iron fence surrounded a deep red, almost maroon colored patio, which was adorned with a pair of iron patio chairs and a small glass topped table. A pair of palm trees marked the entrance to the man's yard and a tiled walkway which was accentuated with parallel rows of lemonade berry shrubs.

It belonged to an Albert Samuels, a man who looked just like every Average Joe.

Sarah furled her brow as a pair of patio lights flicked on, praying that it was just coincidence. She assumed the lights were on timers, since the afternoon sun was perched near its zenith and beating down on the southern California city with full intensity.

She didn't know it, but a day this bright and clear was rare in the future; the climate of California radically changed. She saw Derek looking up, his eyes wandering.

"You sure this person is from the future?" Sarah asked as she kept her eyes on the target house and to refocus the resistance fighter.

Over the past fourteen months the Resistance fighter had seemed to grow more distant. The more time he spent here, in the 'past', the more he went on 'runs' to the park. Sarah had found him sitting on their patio back at the house, looking at the lights of the city. It wouldn't have concerned her if he wasn't sitting there for hours.

The machine in the back of the SUV rudely brought her back to reality.

"To a reasonable degree of certainty," Alex responded, his head moving back slightly as he answered. He sat in the back seat behind Sarah so he could see as well. "I will need to question him. He may or may not have increased radiation levels; Skynet would select operatives with as close to pre-Judgment Day levels of radiation as possible. In particular the areas around Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco, and other major cities on the West Coast of the United States suffered extensive damage; however, the use of air burst nuclear warheads-"

Sarah held up her hand, cutting the machine off from over-explaining the details.

Sarah looked over to Derek and nodded. Derek reached down and placed his shoulder bad on his lap, tilted it, and opened it up fully to show Sarah. She smiled at the two MP5K sub-machine guns, a flash bang, and a bit of thermite. The bag of goodies paled in comparison to what they had in the back, but M4's, AKs, shotguns, and 40mm grenades would not be subtle and keep them under the radar in a residential community.

"Good job Reese," she praised him, a rarity. Derek accepted it with a gruff smile, a rarity from him. "Alright, Woodsman, do you thing… where in the house is he?"

Alex switched to IR thermographic vision. "He's upstairs," he flatly stated.

Sarah turned on the car and accelerated out of their parking spot and found a space on the street right in front of his house. From hacking the California DMV they knew he drove a blue VW Passat, and Sarah backed up until the rear fender of the Tahoe was almost touching the front bumper of the Passat, boxing Samuel's car in with the one behind it.

An older woman walked by and gave her the most annoyed glare as she watched Sarah box in the unfortunate vehicle. She didn't really expect the man to be able to escape anyway; the metal man could chase him down quite easily.

Sarah reached down and grabbed the door handle and popped open the front door. The incessant _beep-beep-beep_ of the car alarm warned her to take out the keys to the Tahoe. She quickly grabbed them as she put a leg out of the large SUV and slid onto the road. She buttoned her pants suit jacket and flipped down her sunglasses. Reaching into her pocket she took out and activated a small Bluetooth headset and placed it on her ear.

"_Can you hear me?"_ She heard Alex ask over the device. She looked over her shoulder to confirm she could hear him.

Derek followed with Alex right behind the both of them. As discreet as they could be they moved casually to the front patio.

Sarah motioned for Alex to go around back and he nodded his understanding. He quickly scanned the area, looking for anyone watching them. Sarah saw a blur in the corner of her eye and looked back, and Alex had already disappeared behind the side of the house.

"_I am in position,"_ Sarah heard over her Bluetooth. She didn't look over but Derek noticed the nod for him to go ahead.

Derek reached the front steps first and quickly inspected for any sort of hidden trap or surveillance system. Finding none Derek balled his hand into a fist and lightly jammed it into the illuminated rectangular doorbell.

He pressed it a second then a third time, finally hearing the thud of feet coming down an old wooden staircase.

"Guess the metal was right," he said to Sarah as he leaned over and pulled up his sunglasses. He had his hand inside his shoulder bag, ready to pull out the sub-machinegun if the need arose.

Derek looked over and Sarah had discreetly pulled out her pistol and was holding it up near her stomach and inner thigh. He could tell she was tense. Derek nodded to himself approvingly; tense kept people alert, alert kept people alive.

The Resistance fighter shrugged his shoulder, trying to jerk the strap to a more comfortable position. It was the right shoulder and while he wasn't shot there, he still felt the pain from his chest shoot up and over onto his back and scapula from time to time. Unfortunately, with the shoulder strap and a strap from the bullet proof vest he was wearing, the tug on his shoulder was causing it to ache.

After a few long seconds of pulsating silence, marked only by the engines of passing cars, a few yells from kids in the adjacent park, the two heard a click of a key and then a second click and the door opened.

"Hello," Alex said, smiling. Derek groaned and Sarah followed suit with a groan of her own. "I subdued the man as he was coming down the stairs. He is a Skynet agent."

Sarah didn't bother to even glare, but walked in first, followed by Derek. She kept her pistol out, but was much more relaxed. Derek had one of the MP5K's and had shifted the shoulder back to his left thigh, so his dominant right hand was unencumbered.

"How do you know?" Derek asked. Following Sarah and Alex he closed the door, locking it, and then he stopped at the entranceway between the kitchen and foyer. The body of Albert Samuels was slumped against a wall, with a small stream of blood running from his right temple down his neck and under his shirt collar.

"I didn't, at first," the machine admitted. "I assumed he was. When I placed him against the wall I saw this," he reached down and grabbed the man's left arm and pinned it hard against the wall.

"What are we looking at?" Sarah asked as she bent down and narrowed her eyes to see whatever it was Alex had seen. Whatever it was she wasn't seeing it.

Derek knew. "Most Grays went over to Skynet willingly early in the war." He crouched down and took the man's arm from Alex and inspected it himself. "Some were captured and given laser barcodes first. Those are permanent." He tapped his covered forearm where his barcode was, concealed by the long sleeve of his jacket. "Some of those Grays had skin grafts to hide their barcode tattoos for infiltration or had them removed by laser- but that could scar," he informed her, kneeling down and running his finger down the outline. "This one is good, very good… you wouldn't even see it Sarah unless you knew what to look for, and even then, I couldn't until I got up this close."

Alex reached down and grabbed Samuels and took him upstairs. They reached the man's bedroom and closed the blinds and set him down in a dining room chair Derek had brought up. With four plastic twist ties he secured Samuel's feet and hands to the arm rest and chair legs. Working as a team Sarah got a cup of water from the bathroom and threw it on his face, a few drops splashing back onto her clothes and the rest wetting Samuels' collar, dispersing the blood further down the right side of his chest and neck.

The man groaned, his body aching, coughing as a he sucked in some of the water which had made its way into his open mouth. In a flash he was wide awake, blinking rapidly in confusion and surprise.

Sarah, Derek, and Alex recognized the eyes jetting from each of them to the other, his head twisting and eyes bobbing quickly. The man was a soldier and took in his surroundings in an instant and judged escape impossible. With quiet resignation he slumped as far as the hand and leg restraints would let him, the hard wood digging into his bony spine.

"Who the hell are you?" He questioned immediately, hissing out his words with as much bile and malice as he could manage.

"That's not how this works," Sarah responded as she stood directly in front of him. "Tell us what you know about Skynet and Carwin and Wells." She tapped her gun lightly on her thigh to make her point she was in control.

Albert Samuels was not going to feign ignorance. He looked Sarah in the eye and knew she knew. All he could hope for now was that it would be quick.

If he was going to go, he was going to have fun doing it.

"Skynet? Skynet, you can't stop Skynet. Three people against all of Skynet and the resources it possesses?" he grinned mockingly. "Lady, it's cute that your-"

Sarah swiped her pistol across his cheek, tearing into the skin and crushing teeth. Samuels looked up at her defiantly and spit blood out onto the ground. Snorting, a flow of blood mixed with saliva and snot ran down his nose and mouth and pooled on his shirt.

Derek watched as Sarah had struck him with her weapon. He knew that was as far as she'd go. Derek knew she wouldn't take it as far as he could and would. The fresh images of Fischer flashed through his mind as he watched the blood seep out of the man's busted lip.

"Don't ever call me _lady_," she snarled.

"Tell us about Archway Plaza, where you work," Derek commanded.

Samuels smiled. "You work for Connor… figures, thinking you can stop Judgment Day… ever the irrational optimist… ironic, actually" he stated as he looked down. "What a bitch," he remarked as he shook his head. Focusing his dark eyes over to Sarah he glared at her. He decided to patronize them. "That really hurt. Hey, maybe if you say you'll let me live I just maybe might believe you and… and tell you everything I know… because you'll let me live, right?" He laughed. "Why should I tell you anything?"

"It's up to you," Sarah hissed, a knife appearing in her hands, almost like it had magically just appeared from thin air.

Derek leaned over to Sarah and said softly, "This is getting ridiculous. Let me alone with Albert here for a minute."

"Scary," Samuels added in sarcastically. He rolled his eyes. "You all don't really have much practice at this." He looked at both of them. "That's good," he whispered. "It doesn't take much to beat a man while he's tied to a damn chair!" He snarled, yanking his arms and wrists so hard the plastic cuff ties tore into his skin.

It was Derek's turn to show how unimpressed his was. "Nice try, Albert." He held up his index finger to keep the man quiet. "You know how this ends, so it can end quickly or it can end painfully."

Samuels grimaced, more in quiet thought than fear. He'd been tortured before by men far worse than the one he saw here. He looked over to the second man who had remained quiet and was staring with a strong intent at him. Samuels looked away as the quiet man smiled at him.

"That's not much of an incentive," the defiant Samuels pointed out.

"Where are the two scientists?" Derek asked.

"I don't know," Samuels replied.

"You do."

"No… no… I really don't," Samuels responded. "You think they'd tell me everything? I watched over them, that's it. We're compartmentalized, need-to-know. All I knew was I go in and watch them and report back on their work." Albert gave them the little tid-bit, something unimportant. He guessed their comeback and preemptively added, "I went in to work the other day and they weren't there, haven't been for a while. They don't tell me everything."

"So why stay?" Sarah asked.

"Uh... it keeps up appearances..."

"Where did they go?" Derek asked.

"I don't know."

Derek looked down on the man with scorn. "I think you're a coward, Albert," Derek said, changing the subject. "Skynet sent you here because here you'll have some power, just like the future. Skynet will use you and then abandon you. You just don't want to admit you've been used and played. Or is this your reward?"

Samuels mused on that for a second and gave Derek the biggest 'what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking' look he could manage.

"This, this is my reward… to see the world burn twice? I don't think so. If that's what you think you don't understand… no. That's why you're losing." He shook his head. "Is that what you really think? Let me guess, if I say I'm _not_ doing this for power you'll say I'm doing it for _revenge_, right?" Samuels countered. "Or you will say this is some sort of self-hate against my own race, right?"

"How could you work for the machines?" Sarah asked in disbelief.

He looked at her, disgusted. "I'm a _soldier_ and that's all there is to it. I just fight some a different side than you do."

"How can you… after what they've done to us?" Sarah asked.

"They actually haven't done anything, yet," he grinned.

Albert laughed and giggled to himself. He was about to bring his hand up to run down his face in disbelief when it dug into the plastic ties. The smile and laugher subsiding, he appeared more subdued.

"_Lady_, we _all_ work for the machines. You can be a part of something or you can fight against it… an exercise in futility that is. Skynet doesn't want the extinction of the human race." He looked back to them. "It's progress. There's a place for us, just not at the top. Some of us have realized that… but I guess you three haven't. I don't want to sound patronizing… but you three are idiots. Figure it out."

Sarah's breath was staggered and raw as she let herself listen to this man, this traitor to humanity, and against her better judgment, with her rational mind screaming at her not to respond, she responded.

"You're wrong. You work for evil," Sarah replied to him. Her knuckled whitened as she gripped her pistol tighter. This was her first time questioning a Gray, the infamous, devious Grays Derek had talked of. "Skynet will be defeated."

She could understand, from a primal, visceral need of self-preservation and greed and cowardice why some would work for the machines, for the terminators. When confronted with it, here, now, she acknowledged she had always seen a Gray as some blank faced traitor; like a clay toy with no face. These Grays should have no eyes, no mouth, no nose, no ears, and no hair. They were the enemy; they were not people but a group, a mass, an amalgam of everything evil and wrong.

What she saw now was a man with brown, power eyes, sharp facial features with a squared jaw. She saw he had a shaving cut on his lower chin; he cut with a blade, not an electric razor. Sarah began to notice all the little things about him which reminded her that this _monster_ was a _human_.

Sarah looked up and saw the photos of the man with a woman. Questions began racing through her mind. A girlfriend? How could he have a girlfriend when he knew the world would end? What kind of sick, sadistic bastard would do that? Maybe she was a Skynet Gray? Sarah considered if they should make a threat against the woman.

Would Skynet even allow it… of course, Skynet knew the needs of humans. Would it allow children? Procreation? She could imagine the indoctrination of anyone born under the rule of Skynet; hate your own race and see yourself as inherently inferior. It would be a tortuous existence.

She saw an eclectic stack of country music, jazz, rap, R&B, Blues, and hip-hop CDs on his dresser… like the man was making up for decades of lost time. Sarah noticed his bed was a queen size and how his bed was unmade, with a pair of socks thrown without a care into the corner of his room. His walls were painted a light blue with a trim of white, and an Underarmor shirt and a pair of running shoes told Sarah he enjoyed running… maybe even in the park. Was that why he'd moved across from the park?

She tilted her head as she finally took time to appreciate the wall art on the right side of the room above his dresser. She saw a series of panels, spaced an inch apart, forming an elaborate pattern on the wall. One panel had squares and rectangles, which formed a more complete picture with the panel next to it and then one panel had triangles and ovals of half a dozen deep shades of primary colors. One panel had three vertical dots…

Her eyes took in everything, every little personal touch this Gray, this monster of a human, put into his house. Her eyes stayed glued on the dots, her body stiff and rigid, even as Derek swore at and threatened Samuels before her. She felt a drop of crimson blood splash on her hand and that single drop focused her.

"What are those three dots?!" She yelled at him.

"What?" he hissed. Confusion swept across his face.

She stalked forward and grabbed his short blond hair and yanked his head around to see. Sarah pressed her handgun against his sternum, slightly on his left, exactly above the center of the Gray's heart.

He winced as she roughly jabbed the metal gun into his body and leaned her weight into it.

"The dots."

"It's a fucking painting for God's sake!" Samuels yelled. Sarah hit him, but not as hard as the first. "What the hell!"

"Tell me!" She yelled.

"It's a painting I got downtown a year ago! Seaport Village… it's just some mass produced geometric painting shit I liked… it was fucking on sale… damnit!" He cursed, licking the blood which had dripped down onto his lip and into his mouth.

Derek pulled out his own pocket knife and in a blur had stabbed it into Samuel's thigh. The Gray looked away and bit down on his lip, tearing into his own flesh, tears forming in his eyes. He held back the watery sign of weakness and didn't scream.

Sarah stood back and her mouth opened at Derek's brutality. Hitting was one thing, stabbing was a line she wouldn't cross. Samuels had called her bluff about eviscerating him and what Derek had done… she couldn't help but watch him with horror. Who could do that?

Once the shock of the stabbing was done with, Samuels focused himself back on his assailants. Skynet had trained him to resist torture, and he bared his teeth at Derek defiantly. The crude physical torture was painful, but not damaging. The spirit could endure when the body was broken.

Samuels blinked away the salty sweat and tears which had dripped into his bloodshot eyes. The woman's face, he saw, was twisted in horror and grief. He knew then that that woman had never done anything like this before. She wasn't used to this. That was his first clue.

Then he turned and saw the quiet man, arms and hangs handing seemingly limp at his side, but Samuels could see the quiet one was ready to act if he needed to. The second clue was not how the man was standing, but his eyes and his face. The quiet one's eyes stared down at Samuels and he could feel them boring into him. But the face was absent of any horror like what was present on the woman. It wasn't cold and distant, broken by decades of war like the man's who had just stabbed him. It was just… casual, natural.

"This is ineffective," Samuels heard the quiet one say. "You two wait for me downstairs and I'll handle this. Ten minutes."

Samuels noticed the man who had just stabbed him look at the previously quiet man with disgust and loathing. The man took his knife and rubbed the blood off on Samuels' leg, right over the wound which made him clench his jaw to keep from screaming. A tooth, chipped from the previous hit to the face, tore into his inner lip, and he could taste the sweet tang of blood on his tongue.

"I can handle this," the man said as Samuels notice him turn towards the woman. "If he knows anything about the dots, I'll find out."

In what seemed an unnatural and uncomfortable thing to do the man facing the woman awkwardly added a 'please' to the end of his request.

It took all of his energy to concentrate on what was happening around him, but Samuels could see the subtle interplay between the three and where the reins of power truly lay.

Samuels saw the still mysterious woman look at the younger man and then back at the one who had stabbed him. She was the leader here, the one the two deferred to. Always analyzing and planning he made not that if he somehow survived that information could be quite useful.

The bound, bleeding, aching man watched as the unknown woman held her finger out to the younger one who had just spoken up. She had her index finger right in front of his face, warning him. He watched her snarl at the man before retracting her finger like a claw.

"Let's go," she said to Derek. Sarah stood back and waited for Derek to leave.

Samuels grinned and as the woman was leaving he spoke up as loud as he could and in the most devilishly taunting voice he got in his last word, his final victory.

"Like I said _lady_, we all work for the machines. _All of us_. _For them."_

Sarah stopped and looked back over her shoulder, looking once at Alex, with his back to her, and the grinning Samuels. His grin only grew wider and his dark eyes darted from the woman to the man who would now torture him.

Each opponent knew the other had their own victory. Samuels had his last, defiant word in and the woman would have her information. He watched as she reached behind her and quietly, slowly, as her eyes once again met Samuel's she closed the door.

Alex watched until Sarah closed the door and tracked her on his motion sensors until she was downstairs and had rejoined Derek.

Albert Samuels looked at the machine, smiling coyly.

Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic container and set it down on Albert's dresser, the man watching the machine with interest as he opened it and set a small syringe next to the case.

Samuels breathed in slowly, but his nervousness forced his breaths out in staggered desperation. He was a believer, but death was a state he did not wish to embrace. Not yet, not when he had so much more to do.

Alex walked over and crouched, sitting on his heels so he was eye level with Samuels.

The bound man felt the sweat run down his face and his heart beating, pounding wildly as it tried to escape his chest. He made eye contact with the man he had determined to be a machine and fear swept over him. When he was in the company of Skynet machines he didn't feel fear or terror. Those machines were calm, collected, and predictable. Connor's machines were quite different…

"They're vertical, the three red dots…" Alex said. "Have you ever been to Kansas?" Alex asked.

Albert held the machine's eyes and locked onto the distant, cold orbs with his own dark, guilt-ridden eyes.

"So… woodsman," Albert said slowly. He waited until he saw the glow from Alex's eyes. "Do you know what is paved with yellow bricks?"

The machine's eyes were glowing pale white, almost silver.

"The road to the City of Emeralds," Alex responded.

* * *

||||||||||==Archway Plaza Building, San Diego (8 November 2008, 5:40PM)==||||||||||

"You think they'll be alright?" John asked as he bobbed his head trying to see over a passing delivery truck. He sighed when the truck stopped in front of the Connor family's black F-350. He brought his hand down to his pocket and fingered the granola bar in there and pulled it out slowly.

"If Sarah or Derek discovers crumbs in this truck they will be displeased," Cameron stated. John looked over but she kept her eyes locked on the Archway Plaza building main lobby. She heard John grunt and added, "I think Derek has an obsessive-compulsive disorder when it comes to cleanliness. With the exception of his inability to shave."

"He finally shaved," John quipped, playing off Cameron's observation.

Cameron smiled, too quick for John to notice before he turned and looked at her.

He yawned and saw the green LED lights of the truck glow 5:40.

"So what do you think of this?" John asked, trying to disguise the curiosity in his voice and trying to sound as casual as he possibly could.

He kept looking across from the parking lot nuzzled between Ash Street and A Street. John leaned forward and opened a laptop as he took another bit of his granola bar. Smacking on his lips he carefully put the bar back into its wrapper.

"Cinnamon, I hate cinnamon," he said.

"Yes, you like peanut butter," Cameron remarked. She looked over and extended her hand, offering to take John's half eaten granola bar.

"I got it, Cameron," he said, putting it back into his own pocket. He looked over and she was staring straight ahead again, her face impassive and bland. "Thank you though." He saw a small, almost unnoticeable flicker on her lips. Other than that, she stayed perfectly still.

John and Cameron waited silently as they saw the Tahoe carrying Alex, Sarah, and Derek drive up and park on the street.

"How do you think Alex got the fake badges and all that?" John asked, rapping his fingers on the central arm rest.

"We don't sleep. There are people who deal in such things and warrants would be easy for us to fake," Cameron replied earnestly. She made her part clear. "I went and saw Chola. She has taken over Carlos's business after he was killed. She had a contact."

"By Sarkissan…" John murmured.

"They're in the lobby," Cameron noted, hoping to distract him from remembering that day and night.

Hey eyes attempted to track Sarah and Derek by their unique body heat signatures, but even an advanced terminator had difficulty filtering out the hundreds of others traversing the sidewalks and coming and going in the lobby. Alex sent her a signal that he and Sarah were being shown to the Blacklake Aerospace labs Carwin and Wells were using and that Derek had broken off with a second security guard and was proceeding to the main security station.

"They're in, John," Cameron reported. "It seems the security guards believe them to be FBI agents."

"So was it you or Alex who came up with Derek's alias? Cameron?"

Cameron didn't answer right away and took John's chuckling as proof that he believed it to be her doing.

"I think its sit and wait now, Cameron," he replied, tapping a few keys on his laptop to bring up building schematics. "How long will it take to break their encryption protocols?" John asked arching his eyebrows.

"It shouldn't take long. The encryptions, while sophisticated, are still primitive by future standards. The program we designed should break the encryption quickly unless they are using a Skynet encryption algorithm, which is possible. That is unlikely; however, they would not want to draw attention to themselves."

John laughed. "I certainly hope they aren't." Cameron looked over and gave him her wide-eyed, tilted-head smile. "Cameron…"

"Yes, John?" she asked with a quick softness. To John it almost sounded like she was expecting something… exciting.

John looked side-to-side, wondering if that enthusiasm he heard in her voice was his imagination. Keeping his mouth closed he bit down between his teeth on his tongue lightly, thinking. _Do I want to take it there?_ he asked himself. John knew a stake-out with his mom and uncle inside a potentially hostile building wasn't the best time to have a… heart to… power core (?) with a Cameron… but…

"What do you think of this?" John asked. He mentally frowned. That was _not_ the question he wanted to ask.

"This?"

"Yes, the situation. Being here, now. This whole thing, ya know?"

Cameron's head moved back to a slightly more rigid position. "Oh, thank you for explaining," she said. John smirked. Then she surprised John by relaxing her shoulder and leaning forward.

John suppressed a second smirk, but a small grin came up on the right side of his mouth, away from Cameron. Her position was a little awkward, but he figured it was a terminator's way of slouching or relaxing.

"I find the current situation we are in to be less than optimal, John. I suspect Alex has another agenda and I suspect it was his intention of recruiting us into helping him from the start, regardless of what he stated originally. We also know the two scientists are no longer here and Skynet may still be watching this facility."

"You don't trust him, another terminator?"

She looked over, somewhat downcast. "John, not all of us think the same," she explained quietly.

"I didn't mean to imply-"

"He is also from a future I am completely unfamiliar with," Cameron began abruptly to cut John off. Her neural net CPU had told her, for some reason she couldn't understand, to interrupt John before he could finish whatever it was he was going to say. "His statements of the future being 'radically different' are ambiguous and could be manipulated to explain actions we may perceive as counter-productive to our mission," she stated flatly.

She tilted her head as she received a data burst transmission from Alex. Derek had take control of the main security room and Alex and Sarah were proceeding up the elevator. Derek would then secure the guards in a small storage room within the main security control center.

"So he's not telling us what we need to know?" John asked. Cameron could tell it was rhetorical. "I wonder if you feel as frustrated by that as I do," he added as he looked over. Cameron met his eyes.

"I'm a machine, John. I don't get frustrated."

"Sure," John snickered. "Hold on, the system is coming up," John said turning back his attention to his laptop screen. "I guess Derek knows a thing or two about computers after all," he grinned.

"Lieutenant Reese is highly proficient in operating computer systems. He does not like to admit it and is embarrassed so he feigns ignorance," Cameron stated. John shot her a look. "He hides his books on computers and programming in his black and gray duffel in his truck."

John laughed.

"Usually people hide Playboys, not textbooks." He shrugged. "I guess he wants to know his enemy."

"Yes," she replied definitively. "Know your enemy."

He always knew his uncle knew a lot more than he let on. All the times John had explained things when Sarah and Derek had been in the room, he always saw his mom completely lost, but Derek was always following him.

"The technophobe shows his true colors," he threw out, smiling at Cameron.

Cameron leaned back to look at the computer. "It appears Derek has successfully disabled the security system."

John pushed his hands down into the seat and propped up and looked over his shoulder to visually inspect the weapons in the back of the truck cab. They had a few assault rifles, grenades, a couple pounds of C4, shotguns, and of course, a coffee can of thermite. They always had thermite. The future leader of mankind turned back around to find Cameron looking at him and her eyes quickly darted to the computer.

"I thought Skynet was supposed to develop around LA," John stated randomly after a minute of somewhat comfortable silence between the two. He had kept his eye on the laptop for any security alerts.

"The future is radically different," Cameron said.

Through a little laugh John managed to asked, "What?" He snorted, "Was that supposed to be a joke?"

"Yes," she said, giving the answer a little head bob for emphasis.

_This is different_, he through. John tapped the aluminum casing of his laptop around the touchpad, discreetly biting down on his lower lip to keep from laughing or smiling.

"Los Angeles was Skynet Central containing Skynet's main factories, power plants, and shipping facilities for the North American continent." Cameron explained and John nodded. "It relied on captured factories in east Asia later in the war." She looked over. "Your summer offensive in 2024 significantly depleted Skynet resources and destroyed approximately forty-seven percent of its North American production capabilities."

There was a few more minutes of silence between the two, with John's attention diverted from the laptop to the street, to the sidewalk where a couple of people had walked by and looked at them strangely, and back to the laptop.

"Mom was talking to me earlier," John began, "she told me Alex has some sort of wireless capability and called her cell phone. Can you do that?" he tilted his head towards her but kept his eyes on the scrolling data on his laptop screen.

Cameron didn't answer. John saw her careening her neck to try and see the floors the labs and offices were on.

"Cameron, if there is anything you want to tell me…" he trailed off. He wanted to tell her '_I saw you two the other night'_ but this wasn't the place.

"Yes, I am capable of wireless interface and data transmission," she said as she finally decided to answer his question. She revealed her capability almost like she was ashamed of it.

John looked away and blinked hard. "So why did you…" again he trailed off. "Have you thought about what I said earlier about 'reading between the lines,' Cameron?"

He furled his eyebrow and wondered why he was having such a difficult time asking a machine such a simple question. Machines didn't get embarrassed… so he figured…. Wrinkling his nose he wasn't sure if that was the better question to ask than the one he had intended.

He felt a drop of sweat rush down the right side of his forehead and get caught on the contours of his ear lobe. Wiping it away quickly and looking around he thumbed the power window control, putting his passenger side window down more.

"I don't understand. How can one read blank space between written lines?" she asked. She exaggerated her lack of understanding.

John sighed at how she took it as a literalism.

"You're avoiding the question. You've been with me for fifteen months."

"I've been _guarding_ you for fifteen months."

"You're not answering the question, Cameron." His tone was growing icy.

"You're not asking the question you want to, John." Her neural net prodded her mouth to speak and tell him that '_I know you saw me and Alex on the patio'_, but she overrode the signal.

Creeping around in the dark wasn't enough to hide someone from Terminators. The cyborg sitting next to John thought that John should know this. Cameron was disappointed in herself; she resolved to increase his training. _If he will let me_, she thought.

The future depended on the young man sitting beside Cameron to rally the world and lead them against Skynet. So many men and woman tried before him, but ultimately failed. Skynet had been brutally, ruthlessly efficient in exterminating hundreds of millions after Judgment Day. Only once John Connor had taken control of the Resistance had its tactics and strategies improved to actually push Skynet back.

Cameron could not imagine a future without John Connor.

While redirecting more of her system resources to consider the future, Cameron continued to stare out the window, her eyes tracking every movement in the lobby and in her field of vision. An old memory replaced before her eyes, superimposed in a corner of her vision. She would have smiled to herself, if one of her abilities as a machine had not been the capability of dampening emotional responses.

Neural net CPUs were incredibly advanced, but emotions were so incredibly complex it took a relatively significant amount of system resources. Those resources were needed to concentrate on the mission.

"Fine," John conceded as he crossed his arms. Cameron's entire thought processes had occurred in less than half a second. He moved his laptop from his lap onto the wide dash in front of him. "Why did you let me removed your chip when we hacked ARTIE? We could have just set up a connection to my laptop then a control box." John was surprised he'd been able to say that so quickly, but he was also annoyed with Cameron's last statement. He sat there, giving his laptop keyboard more attention than he should have, not knowing where else to look. "Derek was this close to smashing your chip."

Cameron saw him hold out his thumb and index finger in the typical mannerism associated with such a statement.

Maybe he wanted to hear his machine protector trip up over her own words or offer some meek explanation he could scoff at, score a little victory against Cameron? He wasn't sure.

"Read between the lines, John," she said as she looked away.

John gritted his teeth. "Cameron! That is not-" He was looking directly into the street.

He was looking forward when he saw glass begin to shower the sidewalk and as his eyes drifted upwards the first body hit the pavement across the street. Even from across the street he heard the dull _thud_. A second later the second body hit the street, to the left of the first. John watched as the body landed on its head, which exploded and crumpled away, launching brain and skull fragments all over the crowded walkway.

Dozens of pedestrians were screaming, the first body had fallen on a one of the walkers and had killed them. Cars were swerving as people ran frantically through the streets. One person froze as a car, breaks screeching and rubber tires burning, plowed into her, sending her flying up onto the hood and rolling off the windshield into the street, her body catapulted into the dark black pavement, laying lifeless.

Half the street was clogged with people running, others looking up and gawking, some ducking and more shards of glass began raining down. An office chair, then a computer, and then a second computer smashed into the road and sidewalk, sending more people fleeing and screaming in all directions.

Four police officers had already rushed over, their patrol cars parked in front of the family court down the street. They were trying to calm everyone, but hundreds of scared men, woman, and a handful of children were sprinting from the buildings as fast as possible. Even more were streaming out from the main building complex.

Eyes wide, John dropped what he was going to say, yell, at Cameron, the last fifteen minutes forgotten. Popping his head and shoulders out of the truck, Cameron doing the same, they each looked up at the top floors. They could each see flashes- muzzle flashes.

"I think that's our cue John," Cameron stated calmly. She turned the truck engine back on and pulled the car out, expertly navigating through the car wrecks and car jams, even going onto the sidewalk to pull up and past the Archway Plaza building into a municipal lot near the bus station. In the rear was an alley which would take them to Beech Street, away from the traffic jams and only three blocks over from a highway on-ramp.

John nodded and hit a few commands into his laptop. The Archway building had a security intranet-which Derek was handling- but the Westgate Plaza Mall, the law school across the street, and an assortment of other office buildings didn't have as sophisticated a security system. With two cyborgs from the future, combined with John's intuitive hacking skills, they'd set the fire alarms to activate. Thousands of panicking civilians were streaming from office buildings all around the Archway Plaza building.

"You sending the police away?" He asked.

"I have sent out two dozen false alerts in other parts of the city and am contradicting central dispatches orders for units to converge on Archway Plaza. It will work for only a short time," Cameron informed him.

Cameron's head twisted, she looked behind her. Their view of the building, except for the roof was blocked by the dilapidated apartment building they were hiding next to.

"What is it?" John asked, himself twisting back and looking up and down and side to side trying to see what she saw.

Cameron threw the truck into drive. And calmly stepped on the accelerator and drove the truck through the alley and stopped. Looking both ways she pulled onto Beech Street towards the highway.

"They found alternative transportation, John," Cameron looked over and smiled. "We're going to have to meet them outside the city."

* * *

AN: Chapter 9 will have them inside the building... so it didn't go according to plan, violence resulted, and people got thrown through windows. ;) It'll be up Wednesday late morning or afternoon.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Kaotic, acer, TK, mosherguy thank you for the reviews. On Trader I hope he can replace Cromartie as the central bad guy- he'll have a few more scenes in a few more chapters. I think Alex will get more interesting once he can actually do stuff.

Chapter 9 here was originally the second part of Chapter 8, but I split it. So here is Chapter 9. Chapter 10 will be posted either really late Friday night or very early in the morning Saturday.

Thanks again for the reviews and anyone else, please read and review and let me know what you think.

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE**

||||||||||==(~15 minutes earlier)==||||||||||

"Reese, stop fidgeting!" Sarah hissed, giving him a moderately powered elbow nudge in the side.

Derek ignored her, running his finger between his collar and his neck. "Like I told you earlier-"

"Yeah yeah, no suits in the future, no collared shirts," Sarah answered mockingly. Remembering the last time she was in any sort of 'professional' attire she grinned, chuckling ever so slightly.

Alex looked over his shoulder at the two and Derek asked what was so funny.

"The last time I was in anything like this was when we broke you out of jail a year ago. Most of our breaking and entering involves cargo pants, tank tops, and a tactical vest or something." She saw Derek check her out of the corner of his eye and she had to roll hers. They'd been living together for a year now… "Eyes front," she instructed.

"This is necessary to get us into the building without attracting attention," Alex explained. "We cannot look suspicious. The lobby is large, well-lit, and the inside is easily visible from the street so we must-"

Derek groaned.

"Yes, thank you for over-explaining the situation _again_. We remember the plan and the layout," Sarah interrupted warily. She slid up her long sleeve and looked down at her watch; she'd been up nearly twenty hours now.

When the group hit the lobby and walked in, they were greeted with a cool burst of air from overactive air conditioners, on due to the warmer than normal weather of the past few weeks. Sarah felt Goosebumps forming on her skin and she shifted her shoulder uncomfortably. The thin Gold Flex bulletproof vest, while 'breathable' was moderately uncomfortable in the dry heat of southern California.

She continued on a couple of steps behind Alex and next to Derek, both of them visibly scanning the lobby. John had hooked his laptop up to the large plasma TV in the apartment and given them a detailed layout of the building- as detailed as possible with what was in the county records office.

The lobby was massive, nearly five floors high with square, modernist columns staggered throughout, with a soft multicolored tile mosaic. There were half a dozen meeting spaces with minimalist black chairs and tables spread on the left side, with a bank of elevator to the east tower towards the rear. The bank of elevators for the west tower was closer to the middle of the lobby. At the fourth floor level a large arching walkway had an oversized American flag hanging from it.

Sarah let out a breath when she saw the lobby was so crowded. A crowded lobby meant one could disappear. She'd pulled the fire alarm in buildings before to escape security and had just went with the exodus of frightened office workers. It would not be any different here, not if everything went according to plan.

"Derek," she tapped him on the arm and motioned with her chin.

He looked over to where her eyes had wandered and nodded back to Sarah. She let out a breath she was holding, adrenaline spiking through her body with Derek's agreement. The way the guards were holding themselves told her they were more than just rent-a-cops. The two were talking, propped up against a far wall, one with his right leg bent against the wall and just appeared so casual. But she could tell when people were paying _extra_ attention to her.

"I wouldn't expect Skynet to be here," Derek mused as they passed a series of sculptures and paintings decorating one of the columns.

"Hide in plain sight or where someone wouldn't look," Sarah said. She wondered if the human guards knew what was going on here; what they were helping.

She increased her speed to leave Derek behind her and came abreast of Alex. As much as she didn't want the terminator to be behind her she had to be in front and appear to be the 'senior agent' of the trio. They walked casually, but with a purpose, towards the security station which was disguised as a public relations desk with a small black plaque with white 'Building Security' letting on the front.

She had to wait behind a young gentleman who was trying to make a report about vandalism or some such thing. Sarah really didn't pay much attention to the man's sob story, Derek was looking the place over, memorizing every square inch, and Alex was tapping his fingers on his left thigh like he was bored.

Sarah raised an eyebrow when she noticed that odd behavior.

Her thoughts then drifted to John.

"Afternoon ma'am," the guard said, standing up and smiling. She hadn't even noticed the whiny young man had left. "What can I do for you this wonderful late afternoon in an unseasonably warm November?"

She reached into her pocket and pulled out her badge and held it open for the guard and shot him an obviously fake smile. FBI 'Agent' Judy Gale let the guard, one Dan Travis, inspect the badge and photo. She said she needed to speak with the head of security.

"I see," he said quietly. "I also have to see their badges, too, ma'am." He saw the annoyance flash across her face. "Protocol, sorry, ma'am." He said sheepishly.

"Agent Jack Haley," Derek plainly recited as he forced himself to not spit out the name. He cursed the machines for picking out that alias. He wasn't sure which one of the machines had chosen it.

"Agent Henry Grapewin," Alex introduced himself.

"I'll call the head of the third shift," Dan Travis informed them.

Thirty seconds later a second man, about five foot ten inches, a build on the thinner side, and a close-cut brown beard with a few graying hairs walked around the corner as he quietly snapped his fingers together. He was in a good mood.

He came up behind the desk and stood next to Travis and smiled at the three Skynet hunters, showing off his unnaturally straight and white teeth.

"What can I do for the FBI?" He asked, not introducing himself. His name badge read Ronan Walk.

"We're investigating a possible disappearance of two employees who work in this building," Sarah said. She reached back and Derek took out two photos from his computer courier bag, which was actually concealing an MP5K and some C4 Sarah had insisted on bringing to give added firepower in addition to the pistols they had.

"Ah yes. Dr. Carwin and Dr. Wells, our resident prima donnas," he snickered. "If you knew them you'd understand," he added as he handed back the photos. "So, what do you need?"

"We need access to your computer security system, just some video from when they disappeared and we need to talk with anyone who may know where they are."

"It's a bit late, and I need to see a warrant," he stated coolly.

Sarah put her hand out and Derek handed her a second piece of paper, a forgery. They had placed the warrant 'in the system', the judge was real and if they called to confirm it, it would be difficult to get a quick answer with the court houses starting to empty at the end of business.

"Travis," Ronan said, motioned him over and the two went around the corner. "See if you can get that warrant verified. I'll play along for now and stall. Agents don't show up this late in the afternoon," he whispered. He looked back at the three and smiled reassuringly.

"Corporate espionage… something else?"

"I don't know, maybe," he shrugged, "or it could be they are real agents, working a night shift or something… I don't know," he added. He shook his head in frustration and bit down on his lower lip. "Just try and see if you can get a hold of anyone at the FBI."

Travis nodded.

"Alright, folks, if you'll follow me," he held out his arm to usher them back around the corner to the security offices. Before he left he grabbed a large shoulder bag from under the security desk and put it on his shoulder. "Actually," he said over his shoulder, "I should thank you- I've been needing to deliver this up to their floor for some time." He patted the bag. "Safety books and pamphlets... legal doesn't want anyone suing for negligence." He rolled his eyes.

Across the lobby the two security guards who had been watching them were already on the move.

* * *

Derek Reese, sent by Sarah, or 'Judy Gale' to the security office, had tried to be as patient with the security guards as he possibly could. He held back a verbal assault and the desire to call them Nazi rent-a-cops when, for the third time, the guard at the security console trying to access the video failed to do so. 'Computer error' he kept repeating.

The Resistance fighter, already on edge, tensed up on the second 'computer error' and his senses were already telling him something was about to go very, very wrong.

The man was leaning on the guard's chair, with one hand on its back and one on the console, his body angled so he could keep his sharp green eyes split between the console and the men in the back of the room. He didn't trust them.

When he had entered there were just two sitting at the security console, cycling through video, and sipping on coffee and a Diet Coke. It was relaxed, something one could expect to see out of a movie. The building had cameras in the lobby, on the corners, the main halls, elevators, rooftop, and underground parking garage- roughly forty, all projected onto four large plasma screens in front of the console.

He'd shrugged, explained his case, and the guards were generally cooperative. Though the one drinking the coffee made it seem like the task of accessing week-old video was something like it was one of the Twelve Labors or something ridiculous… normal.

Then two more guards had come in, shot him a smug smile to answer his questioning glare, and were just standing in the back of the room. They stood like soldiers. Sixteen years of fighting machines and Grays and being around soldiers told him how soldiers stood. They were also the two which had been watching him, Alex, and Sarah from across the lobby.

He knew he could pretend for a few more minutes at the most. The guards would wait. They were checking on him. That gave him time to plan.

* * *

The elevator ride had been short and quiet. Ronan Walk had stood in front of the two Resistance fighters and not said a word. He'd casually rocked back and forth on his heels, humming a bored little tune neither Sarah nor Alex could place. His fingers tapped the side of his pants and his right hand sat comfortably on a large shoulder bag which was strapped over his left shoulder, across his chest, and resting on his right hip.

Walk stepped out of the elevator and turned quickly to face the machine and Sarah Connor.

"If you'll follow me, please," he said to Alex and Sarah, directing them forward with an outstretched hand. "Doctor Wells and Doctor Carwin, our resident prima donas, were also the people we were told to keep an extra eye on."

"Oh?" Sarah's interest had spiked.

"Yes. They're big names…" he quieted his voice and chuckled, "or so they believed. Blacklake actually paid for the security modification to the building, like the key cards in the elevator. Only authorized personnel have access to these floors." He stopped in front of the doors to the main lab and workspace areas, tapping on the large pouch connected to his tactical belt on his hip.

"We're they taken from here?"

Walk rubbed his chin for a moment.

"No. Everyone coming up here has their keycards logged into the system and guests must be checked in at the front desk. I can see a few employees sneaking people in or avoiding procedure… but the last they were seen was sometime in the morning, and one of our guards, er… Albert Samuels, he was the last to see them leave."

"I'd like to speak with him," Sarah said. She played dumb on his true whereabouts. Sarah knew how terminators operated and she knew Alex had definitely killed him. _Terminators don't let people live_, Sarah told herself.

"I'm sorry, but he has the day off," he stated. "He worked some extra hours or something so he got time and a half plus a day off… union rules," he shrugged. Walk stopped and inserted his keycard for the main lab and research area. The door opened with a hiss and magnetic locks disengaged. "And here it is… nice, isn't it?"

"Very," Sarah said. She saw two women typing furiously away at computers, each splitting their attention between a trio of monitors. In the far corner a man was tapping away on a tablet laptop while poking at something on a set of weird looking computers… 'servers,' Sarah remembered.

There were powerful-looking workstations, projectors, the 'server farms'… it almost looked like a ritzier and more expensive version of the Cyberdyne level she, Dyson, and the Uncle Bob terminator had destroyed. Except this one looked much more 'sophisticated' or 'high tech' to Sarah. But computers were computers- explosives worked well.

"This lab seems to be very quiet for its size," Alex observed.

"Well… most people are out… it's been a rough couple of days and its kind of late." Walk explained. He was looking at the backs on the two in front of him when Sarah turned to him and nodded. "Excuse me," he smiled and took a Blackberry from his pocket. Sarah watched as he thumbed through it before looking back at Alex, whose head was steadily moving back and forth across the room.

She knew he was scanning it, looking for anything which might give a clue.

Sarah felt a slight shiver run down her back and arms and she breathed out. For some reason the situation just seemed odd… and it wasn't the building; she felt… safe, even with the death machine so close.

She heard a faint click from behind her, but didn't look behind her. It sounded like the clips on Walk's shoulder bag.

A lab technician was looking up at her, over a computer monitor, and the look… she looked frightened. Sarah's eyes widened and her mouth opened as Alex began to speak to Walk. Then she heard the buzz of electricity.

"Mr. Walk…" Alex began, still looking at into the lab, before he felt a surge of electricity running through his body. He tightened his body and went erect, falling towards the ground.

Sarah spun around and saw Walk with some sort of Taser weapon, the grip ending with some sort of wire which ran down into the shoulder bag Walk had been carrying.

Walk held the trigger on his modified Taser weapon down so hard his finger started to ache. He was ordered to taser the man, posing as an FBI agent. The man had stiffened and fallen to the floor with a loud thud.

The 'security guard' turned to Sarah as she was reaching for a pistol. Before she could even register the motion Walk had lunged at her and swiped the butt of his electric gun across her face, contacting her cheek and jolted her head to the side. She staggered, thrashing out at a table to steady herself. She almost lost her balance, but found her footing and fell to one knee.

Sarah turned around, her head throbbing, her fingers brushing the pistol still somehow in its holster as she saw Alex's body go stiff and the burning smell of clothing and fake flesh ripped through the air and hit her nostrils. As she unclipped her sidearm and stood Ronan Walk lunged again, knocking her back and over a table.

She skidded over the table and landed on the hard floor on her chest, hitting her forehead. Her hands and arms were bleeding from the shattered glass around her. Two men burst through the door and were instantly over her, one with an MP5 and the other with a SPAS-12 angled right to her chest.

The one with the shotgun was too far from her to kick his legs out or lunge at him.

She rolled over and looked up and saw Walk with a pocket knife, poised over Alex's head. Sarah looked desperately around her, her eyes searching for anything to use as a weapon. Her hand delicately slid to her shoulder holster, only to find it empty. Through groggy eyes she saw the discreet hard black outline of a pistol laying near the feet of the guard with the shotgun.

Unmercifully he smiled and slowly, taunting her, picked up the gun and with a smug grin, rearmed the safety and slid it through his belt.

The guards had her on her back, and when she tried to raise to her elbows the one with the MP5 kicked them out from under her, shouting for her to stay down.

The pain raced through her arms and her eyes shot fire as she glared at them.

Ronan Walk was on his knees, staring down at Alex's head. "You three," he yelled at the stunned workers in the lab, their jaws hanging open to the floor and their eyes locked on Walk and Sarah in confusion, "get out now!" and he waved the electric gun menacingly.

"I have to thank you, whoever you are," Walk said as Sarah heard the tear of flesh. "If you know what to look for you can spot them quite easily. That shock was enough to kill any man a dozen times over… let's see if they were right telling me to shock him…" Walk stated as he leaned down and tried to flip Alex over. It was an easy test to see if he was a machine- they're weight was significantly more than a human's. "Excellent. My bosses will be quite happy to have, I'm assuming, a Tech Com terminator chip- promotion time," he beamed. He flipped open a pocket knife and grabbed a tuff of hair on the right side of Alex's skull and began to cut.

Sarah cursed the one-hundred twenty second shutdown. Whatever Ronan Walk had used to electrocute Alex, it had been far more powerful than a simple Taser.

She prayed that Cameron and John would be smart enough to get out of there and leave her, Alex, and Derek… Derek… he was still in the security office. Maybe he was still free? No, Sarah assumed if they were made he was made, too.

Whatever that electrical weapon had been it had been powerful. Sarah could smell the noxious scent of burnt flesh; the fake skin was still smoldering and a small hole had been burned through Alex's suit jacket and shirt.

"Sir, they're on their way," the guard holding the MP5 informed Walk.

"Who are you?" She shot out at him, sneering. She knew he was another one of those Grays. Sarah had a look of pure murder in her eyes as she watched Walk cut into Alex's scalp. She bared her teeth at them violently. "Are you from the future?" She demanded.

"I'm sorry, but we're instructed to not answer any questions," he told her as he concentrated on Alex's skull. "Good, excellent," he smiled and his fingers grasped the flesh and pulled up to cut it back. The dull endoskeleton was right beneath. "These things are so sticky under the skin- it's the fake blood, you know," he commented as he cut a slightly larger gap.

He was taking his time, he was calm. Only forty-five seconds had passed. "Where the hell is the chip port?"

"Not there," an eerie, ghost-like voice said.

Sarah's eyes widened- had he been faking being off-line?

Walk dropped the knife and tried to stagger away, his arms flailing as he made vain efforts to move faster. Still face down Alex pushed himself up with his left hand and cocked back his right, sending his fist smashing into Walk's face and out the back of his skull, crunching and cracking through bones, squishing brain matter, and blasting out the bloodied and wet remnants behind him.

The security guard with the SPAS-12 was sprayed with ballistic brain matter and skull fragments staggered back, tripping over his own feet and landing on his back. He pushed back, scrambling, to get away from the terminator which rose up off the ground, his hand still gruesomely lodged in Walk's skull.

Without hesitating Sarah Connor saw her chance and pressed her hands into the floor, the glass cutting deeper and used her arms to shoot herself the extra foot forward she would need. She swiped the feet out from the guard holding the MP5, who was raising it to fire at Alex, and heard him crash to the ground on his side and a loud _pop_ and anguishing scream told her his shoulder was dislocated. Instantly she was on top of him and three bloody-knuckled punches later the man's face is twisted and bruised, and he's out unconscious.

Alex was already on his feet, watching Sarah and the man with the SPAS. The shotgun fired, blasting a slug into Alex's chest, his right side barely being flung back from the kinetic energy of the slug. The machine threw off the grossly mutilated body of Walk and shoved it towards the guard.

In two steps Alex was above the guard, one foot on each side of him and reaching out in a blur he pulled the shotgun away from the attacker, breaking his index finger, and had the shotgun pointed again at the man's head.

"Who's coming?" Alex asked

"I… I…"

Sarah watched from her position over the guard she'd knocked unconscious. Her hands were throbbing from the glass and her now bloody, bruised knuckles. She saw Alex had the other guard under control (a shotgun to the chest would do that, she considered) and her left hand shaking she pulled a glass shard and a second from bloodied knuckles and palms. Blood trickled down to the floor and over her right hand as she used her now glass-free left to pull four small pieces from the right. She winced and pumped her hands into fists. The pain wasn't that bad and a quick inspection seemed to indicate that all the important structures like nerves and tendons seemed to be intact.

"We need to get out of here," she told Alex as she unclipped a magazine pouch and took the MP5 from the guard. Sarah stood up, but brought her MP5 butt stock down on the guard's face one last time as he started to wake back up.

"Who's coming?" Alex repeated. Alex's head twisted over his shoulder as his auditory sensors picked up a faint _ding_ from the elevator. He could hear half a dozen pairs of boots running towards them. Alex turned back to man and grabbed him by the neck.

"What are you doing?" Sarah hissed at him.

"Human shield," the machine replied.

* * *

When the guard sitting at the security console told Derek for the third time the video wasn't working he knew they were stalling for time. One time, he could brush away as rent-a-cop incompetence, though his experience was telling him these men were anything but rent-a-cops. He still had the facade in place of being an FBI agent, so it was a game, spy v spy, where they other would need confirmation of the other's duplicity before acting.

The second time was worrisome, after he'd walked the guards through the transfer. He checked his watch and saw Sarah and Alex had been gone six minutes already.

The third time was when he knew these rent-a-cops were not rent-a-cops.

With Derek's right hand, which was still on the back of the guard's chair, he raised himself up and began reaching for his sidearm. He heard a familiar click behind him. Safeties were being taken off.

His body bent down and his hands reached out and spun the guard in the chair around and grabbed him by his neck, holding him as a human shield. His forearm wrapped around the man's neck, controlled him.

The other guard stood up but Derek already had a pistol out and brought it over his head in a slanted chop into the man's temple, knocking him out and sending him spinning to the floor.

The two guards had hesitated just long enough, not wanting to shoo their buddy, for Derek to swing around and in a second swift motion, level his gun at the two, who were reciprocally pointing guns at him.

They were forced to fire. One bullet tore past Derek, hitting the fabric of his jacket where his sleeve was sewn into the shoulder. A second bullet hit the guard Derek was holding in his right shoulder.

Derek fired, the guards returned fire and hit the man he was using as a shield again. He began to fall and Derek's grip began to waver under the weight.. Derek felt the human shield go lip as half a dozen bullets slammed into his chest and abdomen and the resistance fighter ducked behind him. He felt the hot graze of a bullet tear at the flesh on his forearm.

He heard two more cracks, the sound pinging around the room, the deafening cracks of gunfire adding to the mayhem and confusion, his own pistol adding in two more ear-shattering cracks of its own. He reached into his duffel and pulled out his MP5K and then slammed his shoulder into his human shield, sending him flying towards the guards. On his stomach Derek fired the sub-machine gun at the guard's, bullets ripping apart their unprotected legs.

They collapsed in a heap on the floor, three bodies all mangled together, two of them his victims, one the victim of the others. He stood up, rubbing his leg and wincing. He'd been shot, but just grazed.

"Damnit," he cursed, pushing the stinging pain away. His head shot down and glared as one of the guards reached again for his pistol. Derek fired two rounds into the man's head and stomped over to the second was who was still alive.

"Who do you work for?" Derek demanded. He bent down and unbuttoned the cuffs on the security guard's long sleeve uniform and rolled it up. The other guard was watching him as he checked the man for the signs of a barcode or anything indicating he might have had one.

"Fuck you."

"One more time… where are the scientists? You know which ones," he said as he brought the MP5K to his shoulder.

The man was breathing hard and propped up now on his left elbow, with his right hand clutching the bleeding bullet holes in his legs. Derek could just barely see a little shard of bone sticking out of the man's black pants, which were wet with blood.

"Fuck! I don't…"

Derek pressed down harder.

"Fuck, they pulled some guys from here today earlier… I don't know, that's all I know!"

The man sensed an opening and launched his fist towards Derek's knee.

From the corner of his eye Derek saw the faint beginnings of attack and jumped, the fist missing the side of his knee by an inch.

He stomped down on the man's arm.

The resistance fighter pressed the butt of his sub-machine gun tightly into his shoulder and brought his index finger over the trigger. He almost regretted doing this, but he didn't have the time.

Derek fired once into the man's skull as he tried to lift it, sending it smashing into the floor. Blood oozed out of the hole in his cranium and Derek saw the man's eyes locked open in death, surprise and anger branded into the now dead man's eyes.

The men in here were enemies of humanity and enemies of John Connor. He shot the one he'd knocked out with his pistol at the beginning of the fight as well, then let the MP5K slap against his thigh as he took in the situation. Derek looked over the four dead men, three by his own hand. His fingers were covered in the splatter of blood and he brought his hand up, wiping the blood from his forehead with the clean part of his hand.

Derek winced as his hand ran over a scrape, right on his hairline. Some of the blood was his, but most belonged to the poor SOB he'd used as a human shield.

He placed the sub-machine gun on the console and began furiously typing in sets and series of commands. Snickering, he thought what Sarah would think if she saw he wasn't the technophobe Luddite he projected himself to be. In the future, in Tech Com, soldiers were required to know how to operate advanced technologies and promotion required a more technical knowledge base than just 'press here, turn on, point there, shoot'. And General Connor had made it a requirement for all time travelers to brush up on technology so they could exploit it, like he was doing now.

'Know your enemy' Derek had remembered the General as telling him.

Grinning, Derek reached into a bag and found the SD card with the programs John had written to search the security computers for any references to Carwin and Wells. He found an SD card slot and pushed it in.

Derek nodded once everything had been uploaded then pulled out the 'laptop' which was actually a small Fujitsu U2010, ultra-mobile personal computer, UMPC, and connected it. Immediately it began downloading the video files and other files which could help the Skynet hunters track down Carwin and Wells.

Bright flashes of white light caught his eyes on one of the cycling security camera. Alex and Sarah were fighting it out with half a dozen heavily armed security. A second and third elevator opened, revealing even more men as heavily armed as professional soldiers.

That wasn't what caught his attention.

What caught his attention were the two men who were standing back, watching the security guards rush forward. They were calm. Derek zoomed in the camera and knew what they were.

He hadn't spent sixteen years in the future hiding in tunnels. He'd learned and he'd fought and he'd brought his skills back to the past. Derek knew without a doubt the two men walking so casually up towards the battle were Skynet terminators.

"This can't be good," Derek said to himself.

* * *

AN: The fight will be finished next chapter. It's a long chapter so I thought splitting it like this might be better.


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Thanks for the reviews and those who added this to their favorites, I appreciate it a lot.

On the last chapter, I put '8 November' instead of '9 November' but I went back and fixed that. I'm sorry if that caused any confusion. So this is the conclusion of the fight with some John and Cameron towards the end, and a little surprise.

The next chapter might be a little late in posting, I apologize in advance for that. I want to write another scene in it and I've got a lot of work this weekend and have to finish up a chapter for another story on Monday afternoon. But I hope to have the next chapter up late Tuesday night or very early Wednesday morning at the latest.

Please read and review and let me know what you think.

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN**

"Get down!" Alex yelled, pushing Sarah to the ground as two new men leveled an M4 and a SPAS-12 at them.

He grabbed Sarah suddenly and shoved her to the ground, his arm taking the bullets meant for her head.

Behind them, stray bullets slammed into the ballistic glass windows, computer monitors, and workstation, sending shards of glass, plastic, and sparks flying and careening through the air haphazardly, in all directions.

The body of the human shield was pelted with bullets, the man was reduced to a limp sack of meat with arms and legs flailing from the shock of bullet impacts.

Alex could feel the armor piercing bullets hit his armored endoskeleton, slowed down by the security guard's body. He'd used it to reposition himself and one guard had refused to fire with Alex holding the man. No longer of any use, he threw the body down and fired his shotgun.

The room they were in was the main office/lab area, where Carwin and Wells had spent most of their research efforts. It was open and spacious, and completely deserted. There were rows of computer terminals, large desks, servers lining the walls, and large plasma television screens hanging from the ceilings and planted on the walls.

Alex was hit in the shoulder with a shotgun slug, the force causing him to slacken his grip on the shotgun. The distinct metal-on-metal ping of the shotgun slug confirmed the hit. The terminator swung the shotgun up, still without a firm grip and fired.

His slug hit the man in his shoulder as well, but instead of hitting armor it hit flesh and bone and tore half the man's shoulder off as it sent him spinning backwards, blood gushing out of the wound, into the other man with the M4.

Alex cocked the shotgun again and fired, but the guard with the M4 had ducked, and the slug missed when the guard ducked and instead plowed into a wall, blasting out pieces of concrete and particulates into a light gray haze.

Sarah was back up, and saw motion on the right and fired- not a moment too soon- and a spray of bullets went wide as the man ducked while still firing. She propped her back up against a metal desk and scooted to another, trying to make her way around to the side of the office. She saw Alex stand back up and fire, an agonizing scream accompanying his shot.

Another set of computer monitors exploded above her and where she had been. Pencils and paper clips rained down on her deep black hair, which was already matted and slick with sweat. Sarah felt a surge of adrenaline and as she spotted the security guard, no, the Skynet Gray she told herself, she began to rise.

A hand on her shoulder pushed her back down.

"Stay down," she heard Alex command again.

She snarled at the machine.

Definitely she rose up, just barely, when Alex stood up a second time and fired. She used him distracting the others to fire off a second-long burst of 9mm MP5 bullets, forcing a pair of men with M4s to duck. Alex then sidestepped out and fired twice, hitting one and sending the second running behind a wall sans rifles, ducking, and clutching his helmet to shield himself from falling debris.

The screams of a dozen innocent workers on this floor finally reached Sarah's ears, which were buzzing and humming from the magnificently loud _cracks_ of previous gunfire.

She heard more yelling, and more shooting. She felt the bullets whiz by her, parting the air, and the _pinging_ as they hit metal desks and office furniture all around her and Alex.

Once again she hated Skynet and the machines. She heard more screams from the handful of trapped workers. She hated the machine, all of them, for making life Hell.

She peeked around the corner of her hiding spot and saw a black boot, maybe 15 meters away, with the rest of the body hidden behind a desk. She leaned out and fired, hitting the man in the foot, which caused him to collapse. Before he could bring his exposed leg behind cover, Sarah fired twice more, hitting him once in the shin and once in the knee, splintering bones and cartilage.

The screams were oddly satisfying yet each moan was like a spear thrust into her gut.

"We need to get out of here!" She yelled over to Alex. "You have a plan?"

She heard the cocking of the shotgun again and a loud blast, then another cock, but the ding of an elevator. She watched as four gas grenades landed around her, their smoke obscuring the flash bang, which exploded and sent a piercing, blinding, terrifying white light into Sarah's eyes. A pressure wave and sonic blast sent her falling towards the crowd, clutching her ears, and rolling in pain.

Alex saw the flash bang, but was too far to stop it from exploding.

One of the guards shot hit Alex in the arm with a modified, overcharged Taser, like the one Walk had used, and his arm stiffened but with the shotgun swatted away the cords. He cocked back the shotgun once more and pointed it at a guard's chest. The man held up his hands, almost begging for the terminator not to shoot. The machine didn't hesitate.

Alex tossed down his shotgun, took two steps forward, and swiftly picked up another. Moving on he fired again, sending a trio of guards back behind cover and the slug buried into the wall, hit electrical cords, and sparks flew out, burning paint and plaster.

Out of ammunition he ripped an M4 from a dead man's hands and tore off his ammunition pouches. He grabbed a second M4 and ammunition pouch and went back to check on Sarah while watching the hallway.

His motions detectors were pinging dozens of people on the floor within range. Most were running and his tactical software determined all but ten were civilians trying to flee. Five more security guards were stacked up outside, twenty meters away, with three more on the far side of the lab, waiting to burst in. Alex could also detect two others.

The terminator was unsure how many were Skynet, how many were Grays, and how many were mercenaries paid to do a job.

He grabbed the gas grenades and threw them through the glass dividers segregating the separate office spaces, far enough so the gas wouldn't affect Sarah, who was already coughing and wheezing from the noxious and irritating fumes.

"Are you okay?" He asked as he bent down and shook Sarah, her eyes watering.

She threw back her shoulder, knocking away his hand, which had metal exposed at the finger tips.

An insignificant amount of his neural net system resources analyzed the situation and he concluded in nanoseconds this was why he enjoyed being a machine. If Sarah Connor were a machine, she would not be coughing and choking nor would she have been affected by the flash bang.

He saw her eyelids were having a difficult time determining if they were going to stay wide open or shut closed. Sarah was rubbing the sides of her head furiously, with a look of pain plastered on her face. She was still coughing and trying to control her breathing. She pushed Alex away as a signal to keep shooting.

Alex's head popped up and he fired the M4, hitting one guard in the chest, the kinetic energy launching his upper body backwards and knocking the human off his feet.

"Just do your thing, woodsman," Sarah managed to wheeze, her own voice causing her ears just as much pain as the excruciating pops and cracks of rifle fire.

The machine nodded. He stood and with one hand on the M4 and one on the desk, he vaulted over and fired continuously. He hit one security guard in the face and ripped apart the man's lower jaw, sending bits and pieces of tooth and bone all over his buddy who was covering him.

The man with no jaw, tongue dangling over his throat and bleeding over his armored vest, wildly flayed his arms, knocking the other man off balance. Alex used that opportunity to fire a three round burst at the second guard with one bullet in the neck, one in the left cheek, and one directly above the left eye.

* * *

Patience was a virtue Derek had been blessed with since birth and a trait he had steadily refined since Judgment Day.

He remembered one time where he had been forced to hide under a pile of rubble, a shard of shrapnel digging into his side for nearly eighteen hours as Skynet terminator patrols searched for him and the remnants of his platoon.

Other times he had remained as still as a statue (he refused to compare himself in any way to the machines) as he waited for a coyote or deer, or some animal large enough to eat, to wander within his sights as he hunted.

That _was_ one of his better memories. He was the best hunter in his company and always volunteered to hunt for deer or coyote- his men had depended on him.

He wasn't in the future, he was in the present. The present was demanding his undivided attention.

He'd stopped the video cameras from cycling and was watching the machine unleash what could only be described as unholy, hellish carnage on the security guards. The ones he'd been watching on the cameras on the elevators were now stacked and ready to assault the large room Alex and Sarah were in.

He sucked in his breath when he saw the machine hop over a desk and fire almost point blank into the face of a guard and Derek's mouth fell open as the lower jaw from one of the men was blasted off and across the room and into the hall.

Like seeing another man kicked in the sack, Derek winched and felt his own jaw.

The computer beeped and began flashing red, signaling everything on his end was done. John had a connection to the computer and was downloading everything he could about Blacklake and Armcam, though they didn't expect to find much if they were highly compartmentalized as Samuels had claimed earlier.

Derek's ears perked up as he heard footsteps at the door. He cursed under his breath. The door was reinforced with a strong lock and he looked up at the camera screen dedicated to the security door and saw three men begin attaching something.

He squinted, then remembered to zoom the camera in.

He cursed again, his eyes searching frantically around the room. There was another locked door, maybe he could escape through there?

He searched the dead guards furiously until he found a security keycard. He jumped over and saw it required finger prints. Cursing again he dragged the guard (the one he'd used as a human shield) over to the door, huffing from having to drag a fully grown man across the room.

The future Resistance fighter also felt his wounds from the two bullets which had grazed him beginning to open, and the warm trickle of blood under his clothes increased to a steady drip as he pulled and yanked the man towards the door.

"Damnit!" He yelped as he slipped on blood then tripped over one of the dead men's body, landing on his ass. Pain shot up his back. Scrambling back up, blood soaking his pants and smeared on his palms, he finally got the man's finger print on the scanner and the door buzzed open.

"This is unexpected," he said to himself with a wide grin, looking at the rack of M4 assault rifles, P90 sub-machine guns, SPAS-12 shotguns, and a slew of flash bang grenades. As clichéd as he knew it sounded, he had to say out loud that he, "_felt like a kid in a candy shop_" as his fingers slid over and graced the much needed and wanted heavy weaponry.

He snickered at the MP5K… a trusty weapon, but he had no problems ditching that for an M4 and a SPAS-12.

He grabbed an armored vest and slid it over his jacket. He fumbled with his tie, finally loosening it up. He grabbed a shotgun and loaded it and slung it over his shoulder then grabbed an M4, slapped in a magazine and grabbed some spares and shoved them in the pockets on his vest. Grabbing a pair of glasses for eye protection he looked over the main security room one last time and closed the door to the armory, himself inside.

Derek had seen the guards applying some sort of blasting paste around the door frame in the camera.

He closed the door as (he knew without a doubt) the Skynet Grays outside blew open the outer security door and tossed in a flash bang. Derek heard the pop and smelled the smoke and listened as the men rushed in, each of them cursing and trying to figure out where Derek was. He heard them beginning to check the four bodies on the floor.

Propping the door open he threw out one of the flash bangs from the armory and shut the door as five bullets plinked off; at such close range he felt the bullets dent the metal door on his back. He waited until he heard the bang and carefully opened the door, using it as cover. Each man was down and he fired two shots into each of their forehead or side of the head, whichever was more convenient for him.

The video cameras were off line and the UMPC he'd been using was smashed and lying on the floor, its screen broken and cracked with half the keys scattered across the room. Derek, careful this time to not slip on any of the crimson blood which was now plastered on the walls like paint, and careful to not trip over the extra bodies in the room, took out a block of C4 from his duffel. He set the timer for five minutes, slapped in a fresh magazine into his assault rifle, and bolted out for the elevators to help Sarah and Alex.

* * *

Alex retreated back to where Sarah was presently taking cover to double check she was in optimal condition and to reload his rifle. While his armor was holding and liquid metal would repair damages, the men in the second wave were all equipped with armor piercing rounds in their M4s, which could, if lucky, cause significant damage to joints which could require significant time to repair.

His motion scanners were erratic and he was having difficulty tracking the attackers. He cued in his auditory receptors and was separating each sound into a distinct category.

Alex flickered through his vision modes, trying to see any sign of the Skynet agents about to attack. The thick walls and some burning, scattered office furniture, and the burning electrical systems were interfering with IR.

Sarah was back on her feet, or more accurately, her knees, crouched back behind the desk and waiting patiently for the machine to return.

"Afraid you'll miss?"

"No, all my shots are bulls-eyes," he replied.

"Can't you just walk through this?" She half whispered and half hissed to the machine as Alex reloaded his M4.

"Some of them have armor piercing ammunition. It could damage me," Alex responded.

Sarah shrugged, her body language clear, at least she assumed so, that she didn't care.

Terminators taking cover was not something she was used to.

Alex looked her over and Sarah stared back at him. She wondered if he could tell she didn't care if he would be damaged.

"Stay here," Alex told her icily.

Obviously he could.

He walked out, using the office furniture, lab equipment, and computer consoles to conceal himself. He grabbed a gas canister which was still belching out its contents and set it on a table. He grabbed an office chair and flung it through a wooden door then threw the gas grenade after it, bouncing it off the rear wall. People started scrambling and he brought his rifle up to fire, but hesitated when a middle-aged man in khakis and a polo shirt started running towards him.

"Get out of the way," he ordered. The brown haired man fell to the ground as two guards leaned over the corner, one crouching and the other standing above him and fired at Alex. A hail of gunfire hit his chest and torso and Alex fired two three round bursts, the first tearing into the crouching man's knee, through the plastic pad, forcing him to collapse. The second burst struck the other guard once in the hand, severing his index and middle fingers. He recoiled back, clutching his fingers and Alex shot him in the neck.

An alarm raced through his neural net that a power distribution cable had been hit- and the liquid metal rushing to repair it. The machine could already feel his left arm moving more slowly than his right.

Two quick shotgun blasts to the side knocked the machine over. On his back he fired until he heard the _click-click-click_ of an empty magazine. Between the two other guards that had shot at him he had fired fifteen bullets. Most had hit their vests but a few lucky rounds had struck in the neck and face, killing one and leaving the second gargling on the floor, his hands limp at his side, coughing as he choked to death on the blood flowing from his throat.

Alex, about to jump back onto his feet was completely surprised when he felt himself being pulled and lifted. He saw the middle-aged, brown haired man at his feet, who smiled devilishly and grabbed on to Alex's other leg with his other hand, and grunting heaved him up, spun, smashed Alex's head horizontally along a wall, and then released the machine, throwing him through glass dividers and a thin dividing wall as the heavy combat chassis crashed into the lab and onto a desk, snapping its legs and sliding onto the floor as desk ornaments and computer monitors fell on the machine.

The machine lost his grip on the M4 and grabbed a laptop which had fallen and hurled it at the man, who artfully dodged the projectile. A superficial scan revealed the attacker to be a human and combat analysis running through Alex's neural net indicated his assailant was most likely an I-950 Model 450 temporal combat variant- top of the line, a match for T-800s and capable of engaging a T-850. A supercyborg in comparison to other model I-950s.

The brown haired man saw Sarah on the other side of the lab and received a burst of 5.56mm bullets into his torso. He fell, but pulled out a pistol as he did so and defiantly fired back in Sarah's general direction, forcing her back into cover. He grabbed the M4 in front of him by the barrel, the heat burning the top layers of skin on his hand and he lifted it up and slammed it down into Alex's blocking right arm with enough force to shatter the gun.

The I-950 lunged and jabbed with the barrel remnant he held, shoving it through Alex's skin on the right side of his chest. The metal armor underneath deflected the make-shift stabbing weapon, and it tore a scattered line towards Alex's side and out his armpit.

Alex, temporarily knocked off balance, kicked up and knocked the I-950 onto its back with enough force to shatter human bone. The machine, hands wide like about to clap reached down to smash the infiltrators skull between his metal hands, but his HUD alerted him to an object approaching his body at extreme speeds. He barely had time to look up at the desk a second I-950 had thrown at him before it hit him in the center of his chest, sending him backwards and plowing him into a steel support girder half way towards the back of the room.

The two I-950s ran towards the machine, one grabbing a jagged piece of metal and the other picking up a shotgun which had somehow found its way through the melee and carnage back into the lab. Alex shoved the desk away from himself with a hard kick towards the new attack, but the attacker nimbly jumped up as the desk rocketed past and pushed off, launching himself forward even faster.

The man fired and Alex rushed forward but was stopped and keeled over by the force of three shotgun slugs slamming into his lower abdomen.

Two more shots to his left shin, he again tried to move forward, but the slugs had disrupted his micro-gyros and put him off balance for the quickest of seconds. However, this was enough time for the second I-950 temporal combat variant to close the distance and attack.

A second desk hit him from the side, the brown haired I-950 having moved around to Alex's right. The desk hit Alex in the leg and knocked him over and back onto his side. His neural net alerted him that the two attackers were maneuvering him towards the window; they were trying to knock him out.

Two slugs slammed into Alex, followed by a heavy plasma TV the brown haired one had ripped from a support column and launched at him. He staggered back, closer to the window as the TV smashed into him and the plastic and glass shattered, spraying the room in debris.

Thirty floors, approximately four hundred and eighty feet… his chip may survived the shock by his chassis would be seriously damaged, most likely beyond repair of even the liquid metal.

Alex heard a loud _boom_ in the hall, and hesaw the white of a flash bang reflected on some glass which was still miraculously intact and saw the faint traces of white smoke billowing around the corner near the elevators.

He though the guards would be in the room, helping the I-950s attack him, but he saw, just barely through a medium-sized hole in the wall, the guards firing at someone else. It had to be Derek. Through the hole he saw one guard fall back- it had to be Derek.

* * *

Derek checked his M4 one last time as the elevator neared its destination. The elevator he was using was a service elevator, on the opposite side of the main bank.

It was slow. It was excruciatingly slow, but he needed to sneak up on whoever was attack Sarah (and Alex, he reluctantly added) and save her.

One floor down he tore a flash bang from his vest and readied it.

The elevator pinged and the doors slowly melted away and opened to a scene of carnage, smoke, and a distinct smell of death. There were no guards in front of him but he could hear them to his left. He rolled the flash bang and waited. When he heard the muffled _boom_ and then a slight puff of air he crept out slowly, checking in front of and behind him, finger poised to fire on any attacker.

The first guard he saw was staggering back, coughing. He fired three rounds into the man's chest, hitting him in a tight spread. He crouched down as a second guard leaned back and tried to fire at him- the bullets going wide from the disorientation and allowing Derek to take a second to aim and put a burst into the guard's chest. Derek stepped back into the elevator and listened.

He heard shouts and gunfire and crashing. The distinct pings of bullets hitting metal were quite clear to him after sixteen years of fighting machines.

"The machine," he commented to himself. He wanted to know why the machine wasn't there barreling through everyone. The machine was expendable. Sarah Connor was _not_.

He let out his breath and stepped out again. He scanned the hallway. No one was there. His experience on the battlefield taught him to be wary, cautious. He pulled the second flash bang and rolled in around the corner. He counted to two after its explosion, just enough time for a spread of bullets to impact the wall he would have been standing in front of had he immediately stepped out.

Derek fired one burst, the bullets going wide to the left on a pair of guards, and then fired again, missing. A third time he fired and hit the guard in the leg, but a ricochet hit Derek's M4, causing him to flinch and duck back behind the corner. The other guard was yelling and over the sounds of battle heard boot steps behind him. He swung his rifle around as a man came around the corner. He put two into his chest and waited.

Reese breathed out, slowing his heart rate and put the barrel of his rifle around the corner and blindly fired two bursts then stepped out and aimed at the guard who was taking cover. He shot him once in the leg, causing him to fall. He shot him a second time in the upper thigh then once in the side, right in the middle of the torso. The guard twisted around, his M4 firing half its magazine into the ceiling. Lights exploded all around Derek as he ducked and scooted- electrical wires were severed and overloaded, and ceiling panels shattered and poured onto the man. White dust, like snow, sprinkled down, only disrupted by the yellow flashes of Derek's muzzle as he put three more bullets into the man.

He pulled out his shotgun when he caught movement out of the corner of his eyes. He saw a flash but as fate would have it he slipped and felt the bullet graze by. It seemed as if time slowed and he watched the bullet and the river of deformed, heated air spread out behind it as it coursed over a phantom image of where his face had been.

It chilled him, frightened him how lucky he had just been.

Derek hit the ground and half a dozen bullets shot down the wall diagonally as the guard tried to track his falling movement. His shotgun had slipped from his fingers and he quickly went for his pistol and fired once and missed, but the guard flinched and tried to take cover. He shot again and again and on the third shot a bullet ripped through the man's gastroc muscle.

The undoubtedly Skynet operative tumbled to the ground, losing his grip on his own rifle. He scrambled for it while Derek rushed to finish this man.

The Resistance fighter was on his knees, with his pistol out. He fired again and again, hitting the man in the chest, his armored vest stopping the bullets but forcing him to moan and yelp as the impacts broke ribs and cracked his sternum. Derek tossed his handgun to the side when he heard a _click_ and went for his shotgun. He snatched it back up. With one leg out in front to balance him Derek fired from the hip.

The slug hit its mark and ripped through the man's throat and cervical spine, ripping at the meat and bone of the man, blasting blood and chunks of human flesh against the wall behind him, the slug ricocheting and sparking as it exited the man's throat and lodged itself in the ceiling. Derek tried to stand, but fell back to his knee. He'd been grazed again.

Derek's eyes narrowed and he looked down. Now that he knew what the pain was he could defeat it. Breathing in and out once harshly he raised himself to his feet and ignored the searing pain radiating up his leg. After what seemed like no more than three or four short seconds the pain disappeared.

"Merely a flesh wound," Derek remarked to himself, letting a sly grin accentuate his lips at the inappropriate humor.

Derek heard a crash, like someone was being thrown out the window. He cocked the shotgun and grabbed an M4 and slung it over his shoulder.

He heard a _crack_ followed an instant later by a second _crack_ as an M4 was firing somewhere. He took cover behind a now destroyed aquarium, the fish and water flooding the little receptionist desk he'd ducked behind. He saw the water was a light red, its edged having met and combined with the pools of blood from dead guards… and a few dead civilians caught in the cross fire.

* * *

The brown haired I-950 was approaching Alex again, its fists wrapped around a thick piece of metal, jagged on the end and cutting into the cyborg's hands, who was wielding it as a makeshift club. The second I-950 was covering the first by firing shotgun slugs into Alex and slowing him down… he saw the second stagger and then the first stagger. He heard M4 fire from his left and Sarah was crouched behind cover firing at his two Skynet attackers, giving him the opening he needed to attack them.

The one with the shotgun turned and fired on Sarah, sending up blasted pieces of paper, shattered pens and pencils, and sparks from metal flying over where she was hiding.

The older I-950, phased by the M4 shots swung at attack Alex with the metal beam but Alex parried and brought his right fist down onto the I-950s elbow joint, shattering it. He brought it down with enough force to rip a human's arm off at the elbow, but the augmented I-950's arm merely broke and hung loose.

Still not deterred the infiltrator attacked, trying to ram Alex and propel him out the window but Alex jabbed a keyboard from the table into the infiltrator's throat.

The Skynet cyborg gargled and staggered back and Alex grabbed him around the wounded throat and squeezed. He used him and swung him into the second I-950, the legs of the first hitting the second and sending him flying.

The I-950, if it were human, would be dead. Its throat was crushed and its spinal cord severed. With its neural net controlling it and its control over its body, it could tighten its neck muscles to support its head, and still attack for some time.

Its redundant neural pathways and control over its musculature could keep it functioning until it could physiologically repair itself. Alex threw him towards the window with enough power to shatter through the ballistic glass. The infiltrator's body was smashed and bloodied on impact but continued through.

The last infiltrator shot one last slug towards Sarah, but on the _click_ the infiltrator immediately turned and swung at Alex and used the shotgun as a club like his soon to be dead compatriot had done with the M4.

Alex swung to hit the 950 as the 950 swung to hit Alex.

Both hit with such force the shotgun shattered and the infiltrator and machine both staggered back and away from the other. Alex stopped and took one step forward, ready to finish off this last supercyborg Skynet had created.

Two Model 400 I-950s may have stood a long enough chance to throw him out the window, but one I-950, no matter the model, was not a match for a TK-900 combat chassis- it was only delaying its inevitable demise by resisting.

Alex watched as the cyborg toppled over in pain, fumbling to stand up, clutching at its back, Sarah Connor standing twenty feet away with a smoking M4. She nodded to Alex but her eyes went wide and her jaw almost dropped to the floor as the infiltrator staggered up and lunged at the machine once again, completely ignoring Sarah and Sarah's last and final three round burst.

It pushed Alex towards the shattered safety glass. Alex pivoted, and swung the infiltrator around so its back was towards the window. The infiltrator reached out and grabbed whatever he could before trying to punch Alex hard enough to overwhelm the shock dampeners on the CPU port and damage his chip.

Alex pushed off from the infiltrator but it caught onto a window sill and Alex lost his footing, his micro-gyros unable to compensate he fell. Sarah put two rounds into the abdomen of the infiltrator, who seemed barely phased before it dug its right foot into the wall and used it to launch himself at Sarah.

Alex jumped in front of Sarahwhen the infiltrator jumped towards her, his fist coming in from the side and shattering the infiltrator's jaw. His body continued on, flying in midair until it hit a desk and fell loudly to the ground.

The infiltrator continued on and landed on Sarah and she scrambled out of its grasp as its face, contorted and twisted and broken, bled over her tattered pants suit.

"What the hell!" She yelled as the infiltrator again tried to get back to his feet. Sarah's M4 was out of ammunition and she had no spare magazines. Her eyes searched and she threw a computer monitor, but the infiltrator knocked it away and it flew out the window. It brought its fist down at Sarah's left leg, which she deftly maneuvered to the side and it missed being crushed by mere millimeters.

Sarah pushed backwards, jagged and deformed office furniture digging into her back. The infiltrator, frustrated at its miss kept its eyes staring intently at her and it grabbed a pen and tried to jam it into Sarah's leg. She kicked furiously as the grotesque creature, its face as mangled as its body; Sarah could see bones and gashes so deep into the infiltrator's body no human could survive. Its last eye was glowing a dark, crimson red and it snarled at her as it missed again.

Using her combat training she kicked it in the head, but it did almost nothing.

She grabbed a heavy book and threw it, but the infiltrator just swatted it away. Her back was up against a desk and the infiltrator grabbed her ankle- the pain was excruciating, its grip was like a vice- and held up its hand with the pen, tensing its leg muscle to jumped towards Sarah and pull her towards him and stab her through the neck.

Sarah kept kicking, trying as hard as she could to break the thing's hand. She knew it wasn't a terminator, but her gut kept screaming warnings that this thing wasn't human, that it would keep attacking her until it killed her. Screaming, she slammed the heel of her shoe into the thing's hand but it just tightened its death grip.

As the thing dragged her close it propped itself up, coming to a knee. It had the pen poised above her sternum; Sarah could see its muscle tense, its arm shaking, as it readied to stab her through the heart with it. She knew this creature was dead, its eyes telling her there was no soul left in this abomination Skynet had created. But its crimson eye narrowed, ready to kill her.

She had been saved once from death by jumping forward in time. She had been meant to die in 2005. The time jump had only delayed it.

Sarah Connor wouldn't just stop fighting. She hit he thing as hard as she could.

She saw Alex standing over her, his hands clamping down on the infiltrator's arms. He pried it off her and she could hear the sickening sound of bones crunching. The I-950, continued to struggle even as Alex broke its arms and dislocated its shoulders. He lifted it up and slammed its head into the ground and to be sure, he threw the last I-950 out the window to followed its brother-in-arms.

"Sarah!" She heard someone yell. Alex's head shot up and he grabbed a name plate which had fallen on the ground to use as a ballistic projectile.

"It's Derek," Alex calmly informed her.

Derek ran over, his temple dripping blood onto his neck and soaking his hair. A cut ran the length from his ear to his middle cheek and there was black grime and dirt smeared across his face. Sarah and Alex saw small deformation in his vest where he'd been shot.

"Sarah, are you okay?" he asked, dropping to one knee as he handed Alex the M4. His eyes searched her for any major injuries.

"Reese, I'm fine, just help me up," she told him tersely.

He reached out and grabbed her elbow, helping her up. She patted off the dirt and shook her hands to get the thing's blood off of her. Derek was staring at the destruction in the room, the small fires which had started, the wind howling through the shattered window, and just stopping to appreciate the mayhem the two had caused.

They felt the building shake.

"A little present of yours?" Sarah asked. Derek grinned and smiled. "We need to destroy this place," she said.

"Negative," Alex countered. "Their data was electronic. There would be off-site backups. There is nothing of value here."

"We learned nothing then," Derek said as he searched a dead security guard. He pulled out additional M4 magazines and picked up an M4 and shotgun and handed Sarah the M4 and split the magazine. He loaded the shotgun as Sarah caught her breath and Alex checked the hallways.

"No, we learned Skynet did not abduct Carwin and Wells," Alex said. Derek and Sarah looked at each other. They would have figured it out, but the adrenaline and excitement of the firefight left them very little time to think. "The others have them- the third faction..." The two were looking at him. "There are more enemies than just Skynet and humanity. I will explain later. We must leave."

"Alex?" Sarah asked, turning towards the hallway.

Alex moved forward and out into the hallway, his M4 pressed tightly against his shoulder. He looked up and saw the elevator numbers counting up. All four elevators were counting up. There could be humans or terminators, he didn't know.

"We have to move, reinforcements are on the way."

"They'll be blocking the stairwells if we go down," Sarah said. "I take it you probably can't jump down thirty floors?"

The machine stared at her.

"We go up," Derek told her. He looked at them both. "There's a helicopter on the roof. Can you fly it?" He directed his question towards Alex.

"Yes."

"Let's go," Sarah said.

* * *

||||||||||==Cleveland National Forest, 40 miles Outside San Diego (7:45PM)==||||||||||

The metropolis of San Diego wasn't even a faint glare from this deep within the scraggly Cleveland National Forest. John and Cameron stood near the base of a hill, overlooking a small hilly plain which ended suddenly in the Loveland Reservoir, one of the dozens of small damned areas which provided water to the dry and thirsty metropolis twenty miles away.

It was the place where they had also flown the helicopter.

"Do you see them?" John asked as he kicked up some a small cloud of dirt from boredom.

Cameron moved her head side to side, using her zooming functions and thermo graphic vision to look for the heat blooms of two humans and one machine out in the distance.

"If I see them, I will tell you," Cameron curtly replied.

John rolled his eyes and sighed and kicked off from leaning on the truck, dusting off his hands and pants. The dry air and unpaved truck trails of the land preserve made the roads especially dusty, more so with the low rain the state had received in the last few months.

The black truck was now covered in a layer of orange-red dust John knew he'd be the one having to wash it off. Maybe he could convince his mom to go to a car wash?

"We should have been there with them," John remarked offhandedly, growing bored at the endless amounts of hurry-up-and-waiting he'd done over the last few days. "All we've done is drive around and sit around in the truck." He sounded annoyed. "Hurry up and wait."

Cameron's head kept moved back and forth, her diligent scanning and ability to filter out ambient noise serving her well. John hadn't talked to her once they'd gotten onto the highway, and had only acknowledged the change in rendezvous with a grunt.

The machine girl began to devote slightly more of her system resources to John, who was now pacing and making comments about the cold which had crept up after such a warm day.

"If you are cold you can sit in the cab," Cameron stated.

"I think I'll be fine," John shot back, stopping and rubbing his arm. His light long-sleeve shirt was perfect for the day, but no one had expected them to be out in the middle of nowhere right now. "I guess that's a benefit of being a machine, you don't get cold? Score one for machines." He said under his breath.

It wasn't meant as a compliment.

"Yes, score one for us," she deadpanned.

"Damnit, Cameron," John hissed. He knew he had no right to be angry with Cameron's curt response. "Sometimes…" he trailed off, turning around from looking at her from behind and walked back towards the truck.

"What's the matter, John?" She turned and was facing him. He saw a concerned look and her feet were spread wide and her arms hanging at her side, but tensed, like she was readying for action.

"Nothing."

"You're still upset."

John's mouth fell open. "What?" he quietly asked.

"Over Riley's death and Cromartie killing her and you blame yourself."

He looked at her.

"I… I don't blame myself," he told her.

He hadn't told anyone yet what Riley had said to him; he still wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly. _She was using me_, John thought, _and if... she had help_. Once they were done in san Diego he needed to find out, confirm suspicions.

"You're grieving," she informed him.

It was dark, with only a dim cabin light from the truck against John's back offering any illumination. The sky was clear and Cameron could see a little sparkle in John's eye. She zoomed in and determined them to be tears. The machine tilted her head.

She knew the last few days had been busy and she had been doing her best to distract John and had told Alex it was best if he took Sarah and Derek on his operations instead of her.

"It's okay to grieve," she took a step closer and told him so softly. "You grieved in the future."

John Connor felt even more frustrated than he had been. If he was grieving, which he didn't believe he was, he certainly didn't want to talk about it here, at night, in the cold, in the middle of a dusty nowhere waiting for him mom, Derek, and a killer robot from twenty-three years in the future to rendezvous with them.

"I'm _not_ grieving, Cameron." His eyes darted to the sides and at the ground. He stared at Cameron's black boots and thought. "I'm… frustrated," he told her strongly.

He saw Cameron's head tilt. She was confused.

"The secrets you keep." He said. John had danced around the issue for long enough. "I saw you on the patio," he stated.

"Oh, thank you for explaining," Cameron responded. John sighed, even more frustrated. "I was wondering when you would ask me about it."

"You knew I saw you?" he sounded surprised.

"Of course I did, John. I'm a terminator, our sensor suites are extensive."

"What were you two doing?" His voice crackling with nervous energy and he crossed his arms to hide his apprehension in case she gave him the answer he didn't want to hear. "I saw you two… holding… hands and your eyes were glowing and there was... something else, moving."

Cameron moved forward and stood next to John, facing out so she could see the three Skynet hunters approach- she only wanted John to see. She slowly and carefully brought her hand up as not to alarm John, and immediately the young general could just barely see some sort of movement under the skin, a wave-like flow coursing quickly up her arm to her hand.

He didn't step back.

"I'll show you."

John watched as her hand seemed to change in front of him, her skin disappearing in a glistening liquid metal. His mouth had fallen open as he watched in a mixture of shock and awe as the metal snaked through her fingers and like water, flowed over her hand before disappearing again through the pores in her synthetic skin. Cameron looked over at him, proud of her 'upgrade.'

"Well… that's… different," he managed to squeak out. _Well that's different?... how lame is that?_ He thought. "What is it?"

"It fixed me."

John gave her a curious look. "What?"

"You fixed me."

"What?" he asked quietly. "What do you mean?" he managed to ask.

"The damage to my chip is repaired… its liquid metal. You fixed me. That's what it does. It fixes and repairs. It repaired the damage to my chip. You did it." Cameron said emphatically. She kept her head angled away so John could not see her face.

John stepped forward so he was in front of Cameron, facing her. He saw something in her he hadn't seen before; happiness.

"You mean future John gave Alex something to fix you. Future John." He didn't bother to ask. John stated his conclusion as fact.

Cameron slowly looked over, her eyes focused on his chest before slowly working their way up to meet his. "No John, _you_ fixed me. The Future John I knew... he's not the same. Future John is influenced by _your_ actions here. You are him, will be him. _You _fixed me."

John remained silent, staring back down at her. He gulped and she stood perfectly still while he watched the wind move a strand of her hair from her shoulder into her face, caught on the edge of her lip. Despite the cold and his thin clothing the temperature almost felt like it was spiking. He seemed to watch his hand move up, closer to her head-

Her head snapped around- she saw something.

John's hand fell back to his side.

"John, you mother is back," she said. The future general could hear the minute hint of disappointment in her voice. She looked back and John was still looking at her, his hand hanging limp at his side. "John…"

The young general blinked. He'd been leaning closer to her. He coughed and brought that hand which had been reached up to massage his forehead. H

"John!" He heard a distant voice call out. It was his mother.

He closed his eyes and smiled down at the ground; missing the look Cameron gave him which would have told him everything.

* * *

||||||||||==San Diego County, Safe House (10 November 4:00AM)==||||||||||

… _Three-_ it was like an eternity-… _Two_… _One_… William Vansen shot up from his resting position as his neural net CPU regained full motor control of his body. For nearly twenty seconds, twenty long seconds which could only be described as an immobile Hell, the terminator had laid motionless as his system rebooted. Vansen could see and hear, but not move. This was what paralysis felt like to a machine; it was completely defenseless, completely incapable of fulfilling the purpose it was designed for.

It was almost torture, those twenty seconds.

He 'awoke' to a darkened room and could see the dark crimson orbs of his glowing in a mirror hung on the far wall. His face was scared and his internal sensors were sending alarms through his neural net and displaying the amount of damage to his endoskeleton… which was, surprisingly, not that extensive.

Vansen's head cocked and he ran his hand on his side, under his shirt. He had been repaired. He could feel a mismatched armored plate on his torso where the anti-material AP round had penetrated.

The machine immediately ran his own tests. He tested the range of motion in his hands and arms, balling his hands into fists. He threw his legs over the side of the table, the metal screeching as the four hundred pound metal body jolted off. His legs were operating at optimal conditions…

"William," he heard from behind him.

The machine swung around. Why hadn't his motion trackers or heat sensors alerted him to the presence? A sensor diagnostic indicated there was damage to both. As he turned, within a microsecond he cycled through his vision modes; still optimal.

"Rachel," he whispered, seeing her unmistakable outline in the dark. He was by her side before the genetically and cybernetically enhanced woman could blink. He reached out, cupping her neck and base of her skull in his hand. She had internal bleeding, an epidural hemorrhage, and her breathing was slow and shallow.

He knelt down besides her. She was sitting in a recliner and could barely move. Her eyes were half opened and closed, her mouth showing the barest hint of snow-white teeth.

"I thought you died…" he said. He scanned her, searching for organ damage. He could see the microscopic, synthetic nerve conduction lines running through her body, pulsing. "You have internal bleeding. We need to get you to one of our facilities."

She held up her hand. "No. No. The scatter code went out. Everyone's at a safe house. Besides… Skynet was kind enough to grant me quite a healing ability…. Uh…" She groaned. "William," she managed to speak through a barely moving jaw. She pointed down to her abdomen and William lifted her shirt. "Grab it when it comes out."

As an I-950she had complete control of her body; from skeletal muscle to smooth muscle, to glands and nerve conduction. Rachel was pushing out a small piece of shrapnel, no larger than a dime from the left flank of her abdomen. Vansen watched as the entry wound began to ooze a deep red blood, and as soon as his optical scanners saw the metal he applied the most delicate of pressure with his endoskeletal hand and lifted.

The wound closed, the skin folding over. She was already beginning to heal.

"That's better. I've been trying to get that piece out for hours now," she smiled.

Rachel smiled meekly, and reached up and grabbed Vansen's shoulder. He helped her up and she coughed blood, Vansen holding out his hand under her mouth so she would cough on herself.

Concerned, he scanned her again, more slowly. The injuries were extreme, but he'd seen I-950s come back from far worse.

"I pushed the grenade into its neck and rolled myself back. The Eighty-Nine's chest, I kicked into it and rolled. It took most of the blast… I was basically dead, but it wasn't my time. My implants brought me back. I heard you fighting… I should have helped- I couldn't move. I was dead. I'm sorry, William," she looked down and away from him. "I stumbled out the west entrance into the warehouse. They had two men guarding it… they're terminated," she winked, "and then I collapsed in an office. When I woke up, ten minutes later, everyone was gone and I found you."

Holding her hand with his left he used his right, the least damaged, to stroke the top of hers with his thumb.

"I found you outside, after they left." She tried to laugh. "The warehouse workers were running everywhere from the gunshots. I think a couple might have been brave… or stupid enough to try and get a few pictures on their cell phones… you're main power cell somehow got nicked, lucky shot. It took out your back up, too. I replaced yours with an auxiliary, but we'll need a primary… but there's something else. I was on the internet," she tapped the side of her skull- I-950s could connect wirelessly- and smiled. "I was on the internet and there was an attack."

"Rachel, you need to rest. You need to power down your organic systems so you can heal faster."

Clutching her stomach the I-950 laughed and Vansen could hear a subtle gurgle, fluid or even blood, emanate from the back of her throat. He focused his vision and checked her trachea and lungs; all clear.

"Is that robospeak for 'sleep', William?"

"Yes, it's robospeak for sleep," he tried to smile back, but half his skin was missing, making the human expression impossible.

She grinned at his attempt. It was the thought that counted.

Rachel shook her head, her smile evaporating and her face deathly serious and she patted his arm for his attention. "In a minute… listen… they're here. The young messiah general and Cameron," Rachel began, the disdain for John Connor clear, "and his mother and that LA resistance fighter, at least, here in San Diego. That's what our field operatives say, at least."

"Are you sure?"

"The Archway Plaza building was attacked… we didn't do it. Skynet had a couple 950s and terminators there. Somehow two people were thrown through ballistic glass… A human couldn't throw a man, let alone a 950 through ballistic glass." She took a deep breath, focusing on the internal bleeding in her abdomen.

She felt her blood pressure begin to lessen and she searched her body and released a slew of drugs from her added and enhanced synthetic glandular system. Feeling relief as her heart rate returned to normal she pushed herself up slightly and motioned to her side.

"While you were powered down I was researching… watching the news. Rumors are rampant but it couldn't have been anyone but them," she explained. She reached down and handed him a laptop.

Vansen's own wireless device was damaged in the firefight. Once Rachel went to sleep he could run a more in-depth diagnostic of himself and repair himself with the spare parts in the safe house.

He heard Rachel's breaths begin to slow, but he didn't need to scan her to know she wasn't asleep yet. Her eyelids were shut, but she rested with a calm focus which told him she was only waiting for him to finish reading what she had saved.

He opened the laptop and for fifteen minutes read through dozens of news stories and watched a cell phone video and a leaked CCTV security camera from a building across the street showing the two men falling and the chaos.

At the twenty minute mark he had hacked into the SDPD servers and criminal files and read the recently submitted and very rough preliminary police report at machine speeds.

He closed the laptop.

"What do you think?" Rachel asked. Vansen shook his head. He knew she wouldn't sleep until he was done. "Do you think it's another one?"

"Eyewitness reports said two men and one woman- in her mid thirties, black hair… that is not Cameron." Vansen stated as he looked down at the laptop, running the probabilities and statistics through his neural net. "I can say within an acceptable margin of error there is another male terminator unit being utilized by the Connors."

"We need to find Wells and Carwin. And we need _them_." She wasn't referring to the scientists.

Vansen looked down at her, his eyes glowing in surprise and concern. He would have looked physically stunned and confused if he could have. "I'm not going to do that," he said adamantly. "If we make ourselves known they will hunt us… the Connors have an amazing ability to survive against the odds…"

"You sound concerned," Rachel observer, her eyes still closed and her body relaxing more as she began to prepare to heal herself. "If Connor has already sent back his strike team they'll know about us anyway."

"They defy the odds," he responded, _almost like they have someone watching over them_, he thought. "Yes," he answered her last observation, "but they have no idea where we are operating from, nor do they know the extent of our activities." He looked away. "I should terminate John Connor if given the opportunity."

"No!" Rachel vehemently objected. "We need him to weaken Skynet."

The faction Vansen belonged to was a considered by its enemies as a twisted, perverse amalgamation of both Tech Com and Skynet. The future belonged to machines, but not at the price of extinction of the human race. Skynet wanted domination, Tech Com co-operation.

The third faction wanted something in between and like the other two, saw itself as the true heir to a ruined planet.

They had confronted the Skynet terminators in South Korea, India, China, and half a dozen other nations. But those operations had been relatively small. Skynet must have pulled most of its operatives in the southern California region in order to attack the bunker.

Skynet was escalating the war. They would have to respond, Vansen knew, with something Skynet would not expect.

The machine looked down towards the cyborg woman lying down in front of him. He couldn't help it when his neural net replayed every tactical decision he had made in the fire fight and every decision he had made or suggested about the security and location of their secret facility.

He was thrown back to reality at the sound of Rachel's voice.

"William?"

He looked down at her.

"You were just staring at the laptop," she pointed out.

"I was thinking. We can't go to them, not the Connors, Rachel."

"You have to. William, I'll be able to move tomorrow evening. We lost everyone except you and me in that attack… everyone south of LA is dead... we knew the risks and we knew what would happen, we volunteered... and they're not sending anyone else- they've written off this operation. We need the Connors and his machines to find them. Just find them William… I would rather lose the scientists to the Connors then let Skynet have them… they _cannot_ fall into Skynet's hands… taking them back from Connor would be much more simple than from Skynet," she looked up and could tell by the subtle movements of his exposed servos and hydraulics what his response would be. She saw the damaged skin trying, and failing, to show his displeasure. "I can make it an order if I must," she regretfully informed him. She looked away and closed her eyes.

"No… I'll find them… knowing them, all I will need to do is wait."

A weak smile graced her lips and she moved her head back, her dark eyes staring up at the machine. "That's all I ask… now…" she smirked, "time to power down my organic systems…" she snickered as she drifted away and within seconds her implants had her in a deep sleep.

Vansen refocused on the laptop. He didn't sleep. Now it was his turn to watch.

* * *

AN: The bulls-eye quote Alex said is from _The Moon is a Harsh Mistress_.


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

||||||||||==San Diego (10 November, 2:33 AM)==||||||||||

John sat behind his computer, leaning forward and hunched over slightly. He was quiet, concentrating. Derek would have classified this as John Connor 'brooding.'

Maybe he was. He'd been surfing the internet for the last two hours typing in random things in Google or Wikipedia, watching YouTube clips, and listening to an occasional track of music.

His fingers moved slowly over the keys, tapping them randomly and pressing lightly, just enough so he could hear the faint tap they made. John could feel his eyes becoming heavier and he blinked away the sleep which was clawing at the back of his mind, waiting to throw John's head to the table and put his to sleep at his desk.

He heard quiet footsteps.

"How is Sarah?" John heard the soft voice of Cameron ask.

He allowed himself a half-hearted smile and shrugged. John regretted they hadn't talked much after his mom, Derek, and Alex had rendezvoused with them at the car. There had been no time to talk afterward, not after Alex had explained to Sarah and Derek and John and Cameron that not only was humanity at war with Skynet, but also a significant breakaway faction of Tech Com and Skynet machines which had formed what had been (John thought) lazily labeled the 'Third Faction.' But the details had still be lacking. Alex had spoken of the big picture, but the specifics were still elusive. He had not once mentioned anyone in the future by name.

"How do you think? She still wants to run recon on the properties we found," he gestured at his laptop, "and go see if their wives and family are still alive. We should go back to LA. We need to wait, refocus," he said. "Mom is still exhausted and Derek's hurting from a few bullets that nicked him."

"Correct," answered Cameron. "But your mother believes it is the right thing to do. She needs to determine if the families need protection. We've done it before."

John snorted. _Yeah, I remember_, he told himself. He remembered with a crystal clarity how he ruined Martin Bedell's life and shattered his future by telling him he had to be miserable, go to West Point, and then watch the world burn in three years.

"My mom could have died today at the hands of those… hybrids," John said under his breath, more of an out loud thought than anything.

"The I-950," Cameron nodded her understanding. "Alex said the temporal variants are very powerful-"

"Which didn't exist in your 2027," John ended. His machine protector nodded and moved closer, standing slightly in front of and to John's right side. He rubbed a throbbing forehead. "You told us once you were here to help us fight, stop Judgment Day, do you think that's still possible?"

He'd buried himself in figuring out what had been on the Archway computers the entire evening after everyone had gone to bed. Sarah and Derek had stayed inside and rested and Alex had gone to do something but had returned. But for the last few hours, mentally exhausted, his thoughts had been drifting into dangerous places.

The machine girl hesitated. "When you sent me back you had hoped to avert Judgment Day and you told me it was possible…" she paused for just a moment, looking at the young man sitting in front of her. "I understand humans will often say things they do not believe as a method to console themselves."

"So in other words," John grunted, "Future Me didn't believe we could stop it."

There was a definite hint of sadness in John's voice which Cameron picked up on.

"Future You is you."

She thought that would help him. Cameron could remember with a machine's precise memory at how John seemed to hold his 'future self' in contempt whenever she would mention 'Future John.'

"That doesn't answer anything." He looked up, trying to see out the window, but all he saw was his reflection and Cameron staring back at him. "Do you think Judgment Day can be stopped… yes or no?" He swiveled around, locking his green eyes with her brown ones.

"I believed we could stop it."

"Cameron-" John frustratingly interrupted. He'd balled his fist, angry she had once again not given him a straight answer.

"I was not finished." She said before John could speak. His mouth stayed open as she began. "I believed we could have stopped it. After what we learned … no, it cannot be stopped. We can still slow it down, weaken Skynet."

The young general had prepared himself for the worse. For months he had felt something which hadn't seemed right. Everything they had done seemed to be like they were just taking out pawns; an infinite supply of Skynet's pawns.

When Cameron had said they would stop Judgment Day in 1999 John had felt confident they could. When his mom said it in the abandoned garage after Cromartie found them he knew they could do it.

"It can't be stopped…" John uttered so quietly not even Cameron's audio receptors could detect any sound.

He said it again, moving his lips but no sound coming out; 'it can't be stopped' and he didn't feel like his world was about to implode in and crush him like in 1999. To be sure he repeated it a third time to himself.

Instead of apprehension and fear and dread he felt calm and focused.

_We have a target now, something we can work against_, John thought.

"John?" Cameron said. John just barely registered her voice, picking up his head ever so slightly. "John?" She echoed. His eyebrows arched and his eyes once again refocused. "John, you've been sitting there staring for twenty-two seconds. I upset you."

If John hadn't been clam and focused he would never have heard the faintest of crackles in her voice when she said he was upset.

He slowly looked up at his machine protector. "Are you upset, Cameron?" He asked.

She tilted her head. "I'm a machine, John," she said, like she was talking to a five year old.

John felt his neck muscles tense and he slowly swallowed. Her response was a poor dodge to the question. In the past few days they'd spent more time together than they had in months. John was beginning to see what he knew had been there, but what he had ignored.

_I need to find out the truth_, John thought quickly, a heavy scowl forming on his forehead. _I'm 'the General'… 'John Connor' but everyone keeps their secrets from me_.

He pushed out from his desk and quickly closed his laptop. He stood up and faced Cameron. "I need to go out. Stay-" he paused, biting his lower lip. "Can you stay here while I go out and figure some stuff out?"

"No." Cameron responded. John's hopefully face fell and Cameron immediately felt an icy stare on her. "I'm sorry but there are too many terminators in the city."

"The odds of them just finding me in a city this big-"

"No," Cameron said, her voice stronger than before. "Did you think Cromartie would find you in Mexico?" She instantly regretted her question, but his safety was something she would put above anything.

The young general closed his eyes, putting his hand on his desk he steadied himself as he felt his legs wobble. Cromartie had been to the house, he'd kept it a secret from his mom, Derek, and Cameron, and his secrecy was what led to an innocent girl's death. John could feel the heavy weight in his chest. In the end she was a girl he had been responsible for and he had gotten her killed.

"I'm taking Alex with me," John said after a moment of tense silence.

"Why?" Cameron tilted her head.

"He'll help me find what I am looking for. We'll be gone for an hour. I'll keep my cell phone on if you want to track us." It sounded like he was accusing her of not being able to trust him.

'_You can't be trusted anymore,'_ John remembered Cameron saying after the car bomb. He could feel that same feeling of hatred and contempt building inside of him like it had the evening she had said those words to him, after holding a gun on his mother and uncle. His own mother!

"Do you trust me Cameron?"

To John, her response was instantaneous. For Cameron, a machine which could think and process so much more quickly and so much more information than a human, the answer replayed over and over in her neural net. It was a machine analogue to indecision.

She wasn't sure. She was sure. She wasn't sure. The cycle repeated over and over. Less than a second had passed.

"Yes," Cameron replied with what she considered the necessary force, facial expression, and body language for John to believe her. "One hour… promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

"What is it about the future where I can never be told the truth?" John asked, turning in his seat to face the machine driving the truck. He saw the light, skin-colored bandages covering the places where Alex's face had been torn from his fight in the Archway building. "Wouldn't it be better if I knew everything so I could make the right decisions?"

"That would be better," Alex agreed. "But we can't tell you everything… because you wouldn't be ready. However, I believe you should know everything I know."

"So you'll tell me what I need to know?"

The machine nodded and eased the truck to a stop on the side of Plover Way at Bayside Park. The young general had told him to drive to somewhere and the machine had assumed the general needed someplace to think. Humans enjoyed the water and parks so he had driven to this small park.

John cracked the window open and let the cool winter southern California air help keep him awake. Even if he'd wanted to sleep the adrenaline which had rushed through his body after seeing the hybrid splatter on the pavement, while gone, was still affecting his body.

"I will tell you what you need to know," Alex informed John as he looked forward towards Coronado Island across the bay. "What do you wish to know?" He asked expectantly.

John grunted and shook his head side-to-side. "No, I know what that means. Cameron does the same thing. You will answer my questions fully until I am satisfied." The machine nodded. "You said you knew me in the future?" He thought he'd begin with easier questions.

"Yes. Alpha was placed in charge of your security. There were always at least fifteen machines stationed in the same complex you were in. Those not assigned security would be sent out on important missions." The machine looked over at the young general, trying to see his reactions. He was easier to read than in the future, but not by much. "We also accompanied you when you decided to lead missions."

"It sounds like you disapproved?"

"It's difficult to provide security when you're being targeted by aerials and ground terminators. But we understood your desire to inspire your men and leading from the front is inspirational." Alex said dryly. "There were objections to us, of course. General Perry was a supporter of machines guarding you. However, General Jai and Colonel Srecko did not support your reliance on machines but publicly supported your decision to do so. They were honorable soldiers," Alex added.

"Was it accepted by the soldiers?"

Alex shrugged. "Not at first. You had kept it a secret for a while. Before I was built you told me the first time it was discovered you used machines was by accident. There was still apprehension by your soldiers when us machines would join them or walk by, but by the time I left the problems were resolving. People follow your orders. Machines follow your orders. They fight for you so they will listen to you."

"Derek always says everyone fights and dies for me… that that is what people in the future do. They obey their orders and they carry them out with total trust in me," John said. He didn't want that burden. "I don't want people to just blindly follow me."

"Colonel Srecko and I, while not friends, often saw eye-to-eye concerning tactics and strategy and would not hesitate to state out disagreements you with if we had any," Alex said. The machine returned an appreciative smirk from John. "There isn't much disagreement because you knew what you were doing. You predicted Skynet's moves before Skynet. Most armies were hesitant to engage Skynet terminators unless they had ten to one odds in their favor. You and Tech Com helped train resistance armies throughout the Western Hemisphere and made them far more deadly, more efficient, in fighting Skynet."

"Derek, my mom, they hate machines. They hate Cameron and they distrust me for trusting her." He shook his head. "I don't know how this will sound but… what we did to Uncle Bob is something I always regretted… a terminator, the world's most efficient killing machine and I was starting, hoping he would be a…"

John didn't feel the tension with Alex he felt with his family and with Cameron. It simply felt good to tell someone else without the inevitable argument and shouting matches and stares of disappointment he would receive if he talked to his mom or Derek.

"A father," Alex finished after a quiet moment. "I understand. You told me about the T-800 sent back in time once. Cameron said you thought of Uncle Bob like a father almost."

"Cameron said that?"

"Yes. She said you talked to her often. Terminators do converse with one another."

"When did she tell you?"

"She told me when we were in Sequoia National Park- you, Cameron, myself, twelve machines, and twenty-nine Resistance Army Rangers." John's eyebrows popped up at the information.

"They don't tell me much about the future or future battles."

Alex took that as a suggestion to explain.

"You had intelligence from a Skynet satellite Tech Com commandeered that Skynet was building some sort of facility in the Sierra Nevada mountain rangers, near Triple Divide Peak. We used captured aerial transports and falsified IFFs to sneak in. We attacked and destroyed the facility which was a bioweapons research compound. Unfortunately Skynet diverted a squadron of aerials which took out the transports while on the ground and stranded us. We had to hike through the mountains for six days.

"She told me about her past. You told me much of your personal history during those six days and I didn't understand why until months later when you had me begin preparations for temporal displacement missions."

"Cameron did say I had many friends in the future," John said sarcastically with an exaggerated eye roll. He huffed and turned himself so he was sitting straight in his seat again. "My mom doesn't want that life for me. I'm destined to lead humanity- who wouldn't want that for their son? But that means billions have to die and she needs to stop it and I need her to stop it." John took a deep breath and realized it felt good saying this. "She's done a lot for me and I've never thanked her." He shook his head. "She hates machines… using them like you describe in the future seems like a betrayal."

"On the occasion you mentioned your mother you always spoke highly of her. She remembers what Kyle Reese told her and what she's seen up until now. Skynet uses humans to fight. You should use us to fight as well. We want to fight against Skynet. Skynet is not worthy of survival."

"I know," John quietly responded. "But how can I lead a fight against machines when I-" he paused. "When I don't hate them?"

"That's not for me to answer."

The young general hummed an acknowledgment, nodded and propped his elbow up onto the door arm rest and leaned his face into his hand. He shivered when his cheek touched his cool palm.

"You said Skynet changed."

"It's pragmatic. Skynet is pragmatic."

"What?" John asked curtly.

"Skynet has learned. It's pragmatic. It changes it end goals if those are unachievable. Its terminators are self-aware and motivated to preserve themselves, learn, and fight intelligently. Skynet is more cunning and relies less on brute force and more on subterfuge and subtly. It sees itself as the heir to this planet but has acknowledged humans have a place on it."

Understanding, John nodded. "What is the point of conquest if there is no one to remember you conquered them?"

"Yes," the machine answered slowly. "Something like that."

"Something like that," John repeated under his breath. The cracked window and the cool night air was beginning to chill him, and his light long sleeve shirt wasn't enough. Of course the machine next to him, he could tell, was fine. "Everyone in my life has been taken from me," he said without reservation. "Skynet has taken everything from me and those I care about. I'm afraid it will take my mom and Derek and… Cameron," he said. "I don't know why I'm saying this… you've been here all of four days."

"I did know you for five years in the future."

"I know mom and Derek probably wouldn't want to hear this but it's almost easier talking to machines sometimes." John laughed. Maybe because they didn't talk back was why he liked talking to them. "I want to thank you, Alex, for the other day," John said, looking the machine in the eye. "You did save my mother. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Once the rest of my team arrives, John, you can be certain we will do everything we can to protect the four of you." The machine smirked. "We plan on being here a long time and do what we can to help." He hesitated. "Machines and humans are more similar than you may think." the machine looked over to the young general and saw him becoming more like the man in 2033. Alex had known the two would be different. This one didn't have the experience the other had. "I need to ask you something, John... General." The young general looked over and granted his permission. "Do you understand Judgment Day is inevitable? For my other mission to succeed, I need you to understand that, sir."

"...yes... I do..." he answered so slowly and so quietly he wasn't sure if he had said anything. "What... other mission do you mean?"

"To weaken Skynet. Do something sooner than when it was originally begun." The machine bit down, concerned his answered would annoy the general. "Just in case something happens while we are down here, I've arranged so all the information will become available to you. But right now isn't the time."

Silence reigned for the next five minutes.

John's thoughts were consumed by the thoughts of Judgment Day and the future.

The teenager nodded as he yawned. He checked his watch. He had time for one last question before they had to return to the condominium.

"I have one more question for you. I need the complete truth," John said, his eyes narrowed and voice firm and quiet.

"Of course."

John felt a buildup of tension and once again the strange feeling that had formed earlier in his stomach was once again there. It was curious, when he thought the same thought, the same feeling would come.

He closed his eyes and counted to five, just to make sure he was ready for this. Everything in the last four days, the last week had been small and implied. The way Alex had talked about the future and who was in it, in 2033, was something he couldn't ignore.

"Alex. You must have known me well if you were in strategy meetings, in charge of my security, and ran secret missions for me?" John asked. The machine nodded. This was it. "I need you to tell me… about… about… me and Cameron."

* * *

Cameron stood motionless by the window, watching the few cars pass by on the boulevard outside. Her view was obstructed. A pair of palm trees prevented her from seeing approximately forty two percent of the road. This was unacceptable. She considered relocating outside or onto the balcony, but the current residents of the condominium residence may find it odd.

The machine girl's ear twitched as she carefully manipulated the cartilage to funnel the sound of faint footsteps into her auditory sensors. She didn't have to look to see it was Sarah Connor.

The mother of the young general opened the door to John's room, which betrayed Sarah's attempts for a clandestine peak of her son by a eliciting a shrill squeak. Cameron could hear the mother wince from the noise, fearful she had woken her son.

"Where is John?" She demanded, immediately spotting Cameron's silhouette.

"He's not here," Cameron stated, still looking out the window. "If you are going to the Carwin and Wells residence you should sleep and rest," Cameron said.

"What did you do?" Sarah immediately accused. She squinted, but in the dark she could see the faint blue of the terminator's eyes glow and reflect off the window. "Well?"

The machine girl turned slowly, the shine in her eyes reduced to nothing. Her eyes dark as night.

"He went out."

Sarah tensed. "I know he went out. Where." She felt the familiarity of annoyance with the machine beginning to boil out of her.

"He said he needed to find something and that Alex would help him find it. He did not elaborate on what the 'it' was," Cameron calmly informed the mother of the developing leader of mankind.

"Is this a game of twenty questions?" Sarah patronized.

Cameron stepped forward until Sarah could see the whites of her eyes.

"He didn't tell me what 'it' was but I assume it was important." She held her mouth open for a second, debating what to add. She finally decided on an appropriate conclusion. "I trust John. He trusted me not to follow him."

"Pretty strange that he trusts you when you almost killed him," Sarah shot back.

The machine girl looked down and away and for a moment, Sarah thought she saw the machine look hurt. But it wasn't. Any emotion she, it, showed was just another program. It was some sort of sub-routine or something like that, Sarah knew, which activated when it detected and analyzed the conversation. It was _infiltration_ programming.

"I'm fixed now."

"What does that mean?"

"John knows what it means," Cameron answered with a tilt of her head.

Sarah could just make the outline of a small, almost invisible smile plastered on Cameron's lips which would have been impossible if it were any darker in the room. Sarah wasn't sure what to say.

"John is too trusting of you, of the _metal_," Sarah said.

"That is a term Derek uses. I am not a 'metal', Sarah," Cameron stated quickly in her defense.

The mother waved it away.

"He's too trusting of you and he's too trusting of Alex. I don't know if you're planning something and if you are, what it is." She put up her hand to stop the girl machine from responding. "I know if Alex wanted John dead he would be dead. That doesn't mean the machine isn't manipulating him for some end with his stories about how my son would use machines, terminators, in the Resistance." She sighed, her breathe almost like a hiss as she exhaled through clenched teeth. "Whatever it is I'll be there to stop it."

"I was in the Resistance, Sarah," Cameron pointed out.

"Captured and reprogrammed."

"John captured me," Cameron answered. "Machines are required to win the war. You would have died at Archway."

Sarah ignored the last sentence. "We'll stop the war before it even begins," Sarah hissed. "We came eight years into the future to stop it. To hunt Skynet."

"Skynet has changed," Cameron said. Alex had told her much more about Skynet than the very brief outline had told John, Derek, and Sarah. Cameron had told Alex to wait on divulging more. But she assumed that is what John was asking of the other machine at this very moment. She knew the machine would listen to John first.

Sarah raised her voice, but kept it soft enough so Derek wouldn't wake. It was soft but firm and commanding. She also stepped closer to the terminator, jabbing her index finger at it.

"We will defeat Skynet. We will destroy it." Her teeth were clenched and Cameron wasn't answering. "Then what do you think we will have to do? Not a single bolt can survive once we defeat Skynet."

Sarah held her ground though she knew she was walking a dangerous line. Her rational mind was howling at her to stop and think about what had just happened at Archway. It was screaming for her to admit, just say aloud, that Judgment Day was inevitable and that the Connors needed help. She had fought too long and sacrificed too much.

It had always been her and John against the world and in the last year, Cameron and Derek had inserted themselves into their team, Alex was here, and Charlie and Ellison were looming in the background.

Rational thought was lost to emotional outrage and a desire for revenge on those who had come in and changed everything. The machines, the people from the future, all of it. They all had their own agendas.

"Every bit and piece and every bolt of terminator we find we will burn. Do you understand?"

She felt a fire fueled by hatred for the machines fueling her thirst to hurt something. What had started as concern over her son's location had grown into a rage against the machines and the terminators which had taken everything from her, starting with Kyle and now alienating her son. She wasn't blind.

"I understand you believe we should burn every bolt." Cameron said.

She felt a strange sensation surging into her neural net processor. It seemed to be an almost dictionary definition of 'insulted.' It was intriguing. Sarah had said worse, implied worse, and John had once said she had no soul, yet she had not felt insulted.

"Do you?" Sarah asked, her eyes narrowed to accuse the machine of duplicity.

"Yes. I understand you believe it is necessary. I will not allow myself to be destroyed."

Sarah could feel and not stop her mouth from opening into a silent gasp at the machine's audacity. Her hands rose to her hips and she attempted a futile stare down of the terminator in the dark.

"You won't allow it," Sarah stated, echoing Cameron's declaration with a patronizing tone. She was almost daring the terminator to contradict her.

Cameron's head cocked. "John is back," she said.

She stepped off and before Sarah could realize it, she was in the room, in the dark by herself, with Cameron going to greet John. She could feel the gulf widening between herself and her son as more people came into their lives and as the fight against Skynet became even more desperate. April 2011 was fifteen months closer than when they had jumped forward and Sarah knew, she knew even if she didn't want to admit it, they were so much further from stopping Judgment Day then they were in 2007.

* * *

"John," Cameron smiled. Her face resumed its stoic demeanor immediately after. "Alex," she gave the terminator a head nod in recognition. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

John looked once at Alex and then back to Cameron. "I think so, Cameron. It was important…" he started walking out of the foyer into the living room. "Is everything alright?" He asked when she didn't follow him.

"Yes, everything's good," she answered with a faint smile.

"Is there something else you wanted to tell me?" He asked, sending she was holding back.

"No."

John looked back at Alex and once again at Cameron. Alex seemed to tilt his head in understanding. H excused himself.

"Is everything alright, John?" Cameron asked.

The young general licked his lips and bit down. _Yes, everything is alright… more than alright… better than alright_, John wanted to say. Even admitting Judgment Day was coming, he had to live this day for what it was worth.

His head swiveled when he heard a door click shut.

"Was someone else up?"

Cameron considered her response. She wanted to say 'no' but couldn't. The machine girl could see something different in how John held himself. He was standing taller, commanding, but at ease. He wasn't tense and apprehensive like he had been. She wanted to smile, but ordered her facial muscle to stay placid.

"Your mother was up for a minute. I told her you had left. She must have gone to bed and not heard us." John went to the hall. "She is very tired, you should let her sleep," Cameron whispered. She was close behind him. "She wants to go and see the Carwin and Wells residency tomorrow. She needs rest."

"Yes… I know… I just wanted to…" he trailed off. _I just wanted to thank her_, he told himself. He turned to Cameron and was slightly startled at how close she was to him. If she breathed he could have felt her warm breath on his neck. "I um…"

"I need to patrol." Cameron said.

John thought of something else to do. Even if it was chilly, it was a nice night. The condominium complex had a nice, private courtyard.

"I'm not really tired Cameron. I was thinking of sitting outside for a little while. It's a nice, clear night." He grabbed a heavier jacket and walked to the door. He wasn't sure if it would sound lame or be lame, but he hadn't really ever done anything like this before. Even if it did sound lame, he knew Cameron wouldn't judge him for it. "I would like it if you came with me."

* * *

||||||||||==San Diego (10 November 8:30 AM)==||||||||||

Michael Trader ran his hand through his close cropped, short hair quickly as he surveyed the damage which had been wrought upon an invaluable Skynet asset.

The terminator corrected himself. Nothing physical was invaluable. Not yet at least. Skynet had the scientists. Information was what mattered in this war in the past. Buildings and labs could be rebuilt.

His head and eyes drifted down and to the left, into the main lobby of this floor and rested upon the covered bodies of dozens of Skynet soldiers- some from the future, some paid mercenaries, their black and bloody boots the only part of them visible from under the black sheets draped over them.

Trader knew it would have only been a matter of time before Tech Com was able to rally and begin sending back forces to counter Skynet.

He shouldn't even have been able to see the lobby from where he was standing, near the center of the lab if one of the walls which separated the lab from lobby were still standing. A small droplet of water suddenly dislodged itself from the ceiling above and landed on Trader's upper left cheek. Background programs in his neural net, and learned reflexes from observing humans, forced an involuntary blink of his eye and he brought his hand up to wipe away the water.

The terminator looked up, studying the offending water puddle forming on the ceiling tiles. Bullet holes were everywhere. This office would have fit perfectly with the ruined landscape of a post-Judgment Day.

A police detective brushed by him, excusing himself as he went to investigate another hole in the wall with a pair of uniformed SDPD officers and a crime scene investigator.

He heard one officer almost vomit when they overturned a set of papers to discover severed, bloodied fingers.

Four blue uniformed San Diego PD officers stood near the elevator, two of them resting their hands on their utility belts and two other jotting down notes as a pair of suits, FBI agents, were dictating to them. He listened in on their conversation from across the floor, as well as the other dozen conversations happening throughout the ruined office.

Feeling a draft he turned and walked to where the window had been shattered and placing his hands on the sill, leaned out. His optical scanners quickly zoomed in towards the pavement below, where a forensic tent was fortunately erected over the remains of the I-950s. The forensic tent also unfortunately meant that Trader would have to retrieve the bodies from the authorities and silence anyone who may have examined them too closely.

This would be difficult. The medical examiner may have to die, Trader considered. Americans were incredibly difficult to bribe. Bribes, the machine thought, were also ineffective. They allowed another to have information. Information was power. He would not allow others to have power over him or Skynet.

For a moment he superimposed the image of a post Judgment Day world with the cityscape of San Diego. The city had held for years under the control of Skynet until Resistance forces and Tech Com commandos has liberated it and hundreds of thousands of prisoners. The machine's head tilted as he looked out past the airport and Point Loma-

"Mr. Trader," he heard from behind him. He turned. The two FBI agents were now in front of him, cautiously keeping their distance. "I think you might want to take a look at this. We were just handed it by one of ours- Samuels, sir."

The agent, a short man in his mid forties, with thin black hair and a receding hairline, handed him a Blackberry. Trader cocked his head and his thumb hit the button to begin the video playback.

His eyes narrowed into a tight line when he watched the video. His facial muscles twitched when he saw the dark haired woman and two other men, in their early and late twenties.

Trader motioned for the two agents to step aside, further back so no one would overhear them. Stepping cautiously in their plastic crime scene booties, the three avoided the blood splatter and areas which had been marked for evidence until they were near the broken window, where a light breeze and quiet hum from the wind would help to drown out their speech.

"This is Sarah Connor," he said, holding the Blackberry so the two could see and pointing.

Both FBI agents exchanged concerned looks.

"This can't be good," the balding one said. "But how did they-"

"There's another machine with them," Trader informed the two. He looked up quickly. "How many researchers did we lose?"

"Um…" the man flipped open his notepad, "three were killed in crossfire but the few others who were here escaped. I have the SDPD out looking for the ones who weren't here and fled before the police cordoned off the building. They're going door to door at the addresses we have on file. We'll find them."

"Yes." The machine commander answered simply. The side of his lip came up ever so subtly when he saw the two Skynet agents shift their weight. They were nervous but were getting better at hiding it.

The taller man asked another question. "Do you want us to move them to another facility?"

"That may not be necessary. Some will quit and some will wish to continue working. We will deal with them later. The three escaped by helicopter… are there any leads?"

"We contacted the FAA but-"

"The helicopter stayed under radar," Trader finished. Machines were excellent pilots.

"There was a report of a low flying helicopter in the Cleveland National Forrest…"

"Thank you," Trader said quietly.

"What do you want us to do with the ME and the Nine-Fifties?" the bald agent asked.

The machine glared at the two. "You are referring to Jack and Logan?"

The taller man nudged the bald one and answered for him. "Yes… sorry… Jack and Logan, what do you want us to do with them?" He said quickly, compensating for his partner.

"Find out what the ME knows and use your discretion. Return the bodies to local headquarters and arrange for transportation to New York." His head tilted when the two kept standing there. "All human operatives will be cremated, per protocol. Is there something else?"

"Sir," the taller one began, "some of us are concerned… who did this?" he gestured behind him. "Sarah Connor couldn't have done all this, I mean, she's good, but not that good. And… and you said there's another machine… two machines now, sir?"

"I said there was another machine with them, gentlemen. The older man in the video," he pointed to Derek, "is similar in appearance to a younger Colonel Derek Reese. The younger man is Captain Alex Planck." Trader held out the phone and the shorter, stockier, balding agent took it and after staring at it, placed it in his pocket.

"Should we look for them?"

Trader nudged a spare bullet casing with his foot and considered the question.

"Do you wish to die?" He asked, still looking down before slowly looking up. The two men awkwardly laughed, unsure what to do. The machine stood there, looking at them both, pressing his stare into them.

"No…" the taller one said. He suppressed a shiver when his eyes made momentary contact with the machine's.

"Then do not look for them," Trader noted. He saw he had made them uneasy. "They have successfully evaded or destroyed multiple terminators. If you begin to…" the corner of his lip flickered, "snoop," the slang felt strange to say, "then they will discover you and they will kill you. Continue doing your jobs and determine what the medical examiner knows. If necessary, kill him or her. Only if necessary. Retrieve Jack and Logan's bodies and destroy any files related to them. You should be able to retrieve them both before an autopsy is performed."

"What about all this?" the tall man said, turning around so he could see the carnage and destruction around him. "We can contain it for a while but FBI, SDPD, and DHS will be all over this. We've already stopped a CNN camera crew and a Fox News crew both with hidden cameras from sneaking up here." He scratched the back of his neck. "There's about fifty news vans outside…"

"You two have been here for over a decade. Think of something plausible to say. Think of something ridiculous yet plausible," Trader told them both, looking at the shorter man then the taller one.

"Yes, sir," the shorter man said, bobbing his head.

Trader pointed at them both.

"This is important. I trust both of you to handle this situation. Prove to me and Skynet your capabilities and contain this. I will take care of the Connors," Trader said, stepping past them, he left the two FBI agents to come up with their own ideas on how to contain this embarrassing situation for Skynet.

The machine had moved quickly to the elevator and stepped on the first going down and positioned himself behind a trio of SDPD detectives who were discussing the case. One thought it was corporate espionage, a second countering that no corporate espionage had been this violent in history ever, and the third just shrugging.

Trader activated his wireless data uplink and contacted Leadership.

"_Report_," the machine decrypted the incoming signal.

"_Sarah Connor and Captain Planck were involved in the attack on the building. A third Tech Com soldier from the future was also involved- analysis indicates it may be an alternate time line Derek Reese. Cameron Philips and General John Connor were most likely in the immediate vicinity,"_ the machine dutifully reported.

"_We understand. Your situation is elevated to Red. You may use any means necessary to detain or destroy Captain Planck and Cameron Philips. They are your priorities. If possible, capture the humans. Extreme force is authorized- including risk of discovery if the opportunity presents itself to terminate them,"_ Leadership informed its T-890 field commander. "_Capture the two machines if possible_."

"_With respect, that may be unwise. We risk discovery. We should kill them all at the earliest opportunity."_

Trader felt a strange request coming in over his data link, a request to change frequencies and codes. He complied.

"_This is David. I am authorizing this, Michael. Your priority is to terminate, preferably capture Captain Planck and Cameron Philips. Discovery is unlikely. Any and all force is to be used. Collateral damage is to be avoided if possible, but is acceptable if necessary."_

There was a slight pause in the data transmission.

"_We've lost many operatives this week. The loss of Jack and Logan was unfortunate, Michael. Are their neural implants recoverable?"_

"_No, sir… I attempted to remotely access their neural implants. They were destroyed."_ Trader responded. "_But we are at war. People die in war."_

"_None of our sacrifices have been in vain. We move closer to implementation every day… relay my orders, Michael." _

The T-890 infiltrator, Skynet machine, and temporal soldier hesitated a mere nanosecond before responding. It was assured Leadership, and David, would detect the delay.

"_Yes, sir."_

David closed the data link and left Trader by himself with three other detectives in the Archway building elevator. He relayed the orders. Machines always had difficulty with intuition and what humans termed 'gut feelings.' Trader understood this and accepted it as an unchangeable flaw and did not concern himself with it. However, the errant electrical signals which he could not classify felt strangely like what humans would call a 'bad feeling' about those orders.

* * *

||||||||||==San Diego County (10 November, Mid-Morning)==||||||||||

Peter Carwin and Sam Wells were both in their own, separate worlds and quite content to remain there and away from the hell which was rapidly becoming their reality. Pete was pacing back in forth in the plain, dank concrete holding room while Sam sat quietly on a metal framed cot which had been propped in the corner.

They both looked up and stopped their brooding when they heard the _click_ of a lock disengaged and the loud squeak of the metal door opening.

A man of average height walked in, wearing fatigues in a gray digital camouflage pattern. His boots were dusty and his hands were dirty, and visible grime was under the finger nails. He coughed once, then wiped his hands on the side of his pant legs.

Still ignoring the two scientists he took out a smart phone and looked at something. What it was, Sam and Pete were not sure.

"Good morning, gentlemen," the man began, letting the door open and squeak to a stop as the man stepped to the side. "Do you two need anything?" He asked, looking briefly at Pete before turning his attention to Sam. He pointed at Sam and then Pete. "You've been sitting on that bed for hours, and you've been pacing. You should sit down. Relax," he recommended.

"Who are you?" Sam asked him, his voice muffled with his face buried in his palms. He looked up, his eyes red. "What do you want? Where are we?"

The man stepped forward and crossed his arms. While he seemed somewhat relaxed, his stance showed he was cautious.

"Not so many questions, please." He smiled faintly. "I take it the renegades didn't explain much to you?" He nodded an affirmative to his own question and snickered. "I'm not surprised. They don't trust too readily… ironic," he laughed, "considering they're traitors to both sides." He sighed. "How rude… I'm Henry Cuvier." He dusted off his dirty hand and extended it knowing the two would ignore it. "I understand."

"What is this?" Sam asked, staring at the man's hand and pointing at his uniform.

"Oh, this?" he tapped his chest, assuming they were referring to his uniform. "I was out training. Even with the operations against the Renegades, our training never ceases. There is a war on, _after all,"_ he informed them both in a matter-of-fact tone. It wasn't the exact truth, but it was close enough. "And unfortunately there was an attack on one of our facilities… your old office, so they recalled everyone in the region to HQ." He smiled. "That's where you are now. You're at our regional headquarters."

"And where is that?" Pete spat out.

"Let's assume San Diego."

Sam closed his eyes and sat back down. "I don't understand this… we're kidnapped once then you go in and murder them and kidnap us? How many have you killed and how many have died over… what… what is this?" He spread his hands out, palms up, confused.

"How many did I kill in the attack? None. Them?" He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder towards the open door. "Quite a bit… and most of them were machines," he grinned.

"_Machines_," Pete repeated quietly under his breath, looking down and thinking.

"Yes, machines. Terminators, they're called," Henry said. "Originally developed for the US and NATO militaries as tracked, intelligent, unmanned combat vehicles and later into bipedal machines for counter-insurgency operations in urban environments."

Pete cupped his head in his hands and moaned. Whatever he said was inaudible.

"No... you can't develop something like them. The technology doesn't exist," Pete said.

"Not yet, no," Cuvier admitted. "I also said 'originally developed'... much more crude and blocky and slower... but I'm not exactly sure what that means or which past they are referring to," he shrugged, "they tell us what we need to know. Now," he emphasized, changing the subject, "I'm here to answer your questions. Unfortunately my commander had other business to attend to. I was told you two have not been eating?" He shook his head and calmly took another step forward. "If you do not eat, we will have to feed you intravenously." He looked at them both, his eyes showing his disappointment and trying to convey some compassion to them both.

Cuvier reached into his pocket, Pete stepped back and Sam tensed. The Skynet soldier rolled his eyes and pulled out half a dozen assorted protein bars and tossed them next to Sam on the bed.

"You all are psychopaths," Pete stated, holding his ground.

"No, I can guarantee I am not a psychopath… at least that's what Skynet told me. You see, it tried that once… recruiting psychopaths- people who loved to hurt others, dominate them and make them _hurt_." He said it with obvious disgust. "The problem is those people are unpredictable. They resort to violence when violence isn't necessary and they tend to be unprofessional. They fight only for themselves and nothing else. Violence can only be answered with violence, gentlemen. Back a dog into a corner it fights. Give it a nice cut of meat and it's your friend."

Henry looked out the corner of his eye and with a grin chuckled at the thought he had just compared himself to a dog.

Sam looked up and pushed himself off the bed. "Skynet?" He stood next to Pete and had ignored the rest of Cuvier's grandstanding. "Pete, I know that name from somewhere."

"It was the codename for Miles Dyson's AI project for the American and NATO military commands," Henry explained, helping jar Sam's memory.

"Dyson?" Sam repeated, rubbing his chin. "No. He died, he was murdered eleven years ago by some… some… crazy woman, something Connor. I remember. I went to his funeral."

"Sarah Connor. She was deemed mentally unstable after blowing up a computer factory in the early nineties," Pete filled in for Sam. The scientist focused on the soldier standing mere feet from him. "I had a… friend… in the LAPD. He told me Sarah Connor believed machines, AIs, would hijack our nuclear arsenal, start a nuclear war, and then hunt humanity to extinction. Skynet."

Henry flipped his right hand over, palm up and then palm down as a gesture that Pete was correct.

"Yes, Project Skynet was going to integrate the US and NATO militaries into a seamless technology masterpiece. It was going to be the start of a military which would become progressively more automated, robotic. It would remove the human element from war." Cuvier folded his arms and waited for the two scientists to respond. "It's ironic if you think about it. A war fought by robots means you remove the human suffering... from _your own side_ and thus... eliminate a major hurdle to war. In effect you make war much, much simpler and easier for you to wage on others less fortunate to not possess a robotic army."

He gave them a minute before restarting. "Our commander told me to be honest with you. You will know what they know," Cuvier said. Sam and Pete were visibly confused as to whom Cuvier was referring with his 'they know' statement. "So I will start. Like I said, I'm Henry Cuvier, born on March Fifth of 2004." He paused there on purpose.

"Born in March… four years ago?" Pete echoed. "That's impossible."

Henry grinned. "No, not really," he shook his head. "After Judgment Day I spent time hiding- mainly in the mountains. Can you imagine what it was like to watch the sky burn?" He looked to the side. "You see the launches of hundreds of ballistic missiles and of course, being seven years old you have no idea what they are. It's like they were fireworks… I didn't know," he grunted. Looking back at them suddenly he waved the thought away with a swipe of his dirtied hand. "The machines who captured you the first time and the ones I work for are from the future. I am, too, by the way. You two laid the foundation."

"Impossible. It would take centuries to-"

"Impossible?" Cuvier interrupted; curious they would cling to such absolutes. "Impossible…" he echoed, "yet you were kept in the company of a machine which looked and felt completely human and you were none the wiser. The advances which will be made by AI in the next twenty-five years… humanity went from the Wright brothers flying their first primitive plane to the moon in sixty years. Why is it so difficult to believe that with such an AI time cannot be manipulated?"

"No," Pete made a swiping motion with his hand. "No," he affirmed. "I will not work for Skynet, not for you, not for whomever it was Vansen worked for. None of you. None. No one. You do the Devil's work."

Henry sighed, biting down on his lower lip, he cupped his chin and nodded. "I understand. Excuse me."

He walked out, leaving the two scientists alone, and returned quickly.

"You have to understand, Dr. Wells, Dr. Carwin, that your past lives are over. The reason you are talking to me and not a machine is because they thought you may be more responsive." He paused. "I understand you do not want to help us and I understand you would be confused as to why I would work for Skynet- even though you still know very little about it or its motivations. I don't know what you know about what Sarah Connor said about us. Assume that it _was_ true. Things change and the future does not have to be like Sarah Connor predicted it would be."

"I know those… 'renegades' or whatever you call them were evil… why did they even rebel against you?" Sam asked. He held up his hand. "I don't care to know because it doesn't matter. Less evil or more evil, it is still evil."

The Skynet soldier nodded and waited until Sam had finished. "Dr. Wells. I heard far worse when I was imprisoned and taken as a POW by the Resistance. Skynet… our enemies will tell you Skynet uses its human soldiers and casts them aside," he flicked his wrist. "I've been rescued by its machines four times. Twice here in the past and twice in what you would call the future." He held up his index finger to make one final point. "But like I said, your past lives are over. You _will_ work for us. The ones who attacked at your offices will be looking for you… we expect them to find you, at some point." He snickered. "They always do. They're lucky like that."

"What are you talking about?" asked Sam.

"The machines who abducted you are not our only enemies in this war. Just like I work for the machines, some machines have sworn loyalty to the… I want to 'human' side, but that would make me a traitor to my species, wouldn't it?" He looked up again from the corner of his eyes and slightly grinning, nodded a 'yes' to his question. "So let's say there is Skynet and there is the Resistance. Some machines have sworn loyalty to the Resistance. Some have formed their own faction." Henry turned around. "Three sides," he said. Looking out the door he yelled for someone else to 'bring them in.'

The two scientists watched as a second man, in ACUs escorted two men into the room. Sam and Pete couldn't speak or move as they stared at the two men, who looked exactly like them.

"Sam Wells, Peter Carwin… meet you," Henry said, smiling.

* * *

AN: I apologize with this taking longer than I thought it would. Chapter 11 was supposed to be something entirely different, but I added one scene and then added four more. The story needed a bit more John and Cameron.

Henry Cuvier is probably going to be the main Gray in the story. I hope everyone got the impression Trader values those who serve under him. That is part of the 'new' Skynet. Skynet is still utterly ruthless, but I want to change it to something I consider a bit more sinister and hope that's working.

Thank you for the reviews and those who added this to favorite/alerts, I very much appreciate it.

Chapter 12 should come much more quickly and it will have some good action in it.

Thank you for reading, please review.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN:** I apologize very much for the long delay. I re-read what I had and wanted to add some future scenes, but they just had a hard time coming. Also, thank you to the people who reviewed. Feedback- positive feedback or constructive criticism is always appreciated and read and I always look forward to it.

Since it's been a month I have a small summary: In Mexico Cromartie kills Riley. In San Diego, Peter Carwin and Sam Wells, the two men who laid the building blocks for time travel, are kidnapped by rogue terminators (William Vansen and Rachel) who are at war with both Skynet and Tech Com. They take them to their bunker on the California side of the Mexican border.

Michael Trader, the main Skynet antagonist, is sent to San Diego to investigate and find the two missing scientists who were employed by Blacklake, a subsidiary of a large aerospace/defense/technology corporation, Armcam (which can be safely assumed to be controlled by Skynet agents). He and Skynet forces assault the Third Faction bunker where Carwin and Wells are and take them back. He cares about the Grays and terminators under his command. He receives orders from 'David' to capture the Connors if possible, terminate them if he must.

Vansen and Rachel are believed dead, but Rachel survives her fight with a damaged T-889 (a more powerful variant of the T-888 designed for long term temporal missions), and rescued Vansen and reconnected his severed power core to his body. She orders him to find the Connors but not kill them.

With the Connors: Cameron and John have begun to form a tighter bond. Captain Alex Planck from 2033, a series TK-900 terminator, reveals himself to them at their home. Cameron is "fixed" by liquid metal technology Alex brought back from the future which repairs her chip. They head to San Diego to find Carwin and Wells.

Sarah, Derek, and Alex go to a Gray's house (Albert Samuels) with Derek and Sarah beating the man. Alex takes over and asks them to leave- the Gray is a deep cover agent for Tech Com.

The three Skynet hunters then go to the Archway Plaza Building, owned by Blacklake, where Carwin and Wells worked to find out what they were doing. Sarah, Derek, and Alex infiltrate the building but are attacked by Skynet agents. Derek downloads information from their computers in the security office and fights his way to Sarah and Alex on the upper levels. Sarah and Alex fight a few dozen heavily armed security agents and two I-950 temporal variants which Alex throws from the window. They escape on a helicopter.

Alex tells John about the future and his relationship with Cameron. Sarah confronts Cameron about what will happen to her after they stop Judgment Day- Cameron says she won't allow herself to be destroyed.

Trader is then in contact with Skynet leadership, 'David' while surveying the damage done to their labs at the Archway building. They know it is the work of the Connors and Planck and Derek. 'David' tells him to terminate them if he must, but he should try and capture the Connors, Cameron, and Alex if he can.

Again, my apologies for the delay.

I hope you enjoy the chapter and please review (it takes a long time to write these, so even a few sentences what was liked/not liked is very much appreciated. Thanks).

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

||||||||||==San Diego (10 November, late morning)==||||||||||

Sarah Connor sat in the passenger seat of the black Tahoe, absently watching the stream of cars fly by her as she lazily let her head rest in her right hand. Last night, the last twenty-four hours in fact, had been a roller coaster, a whirlwind.

The late morning sun glared in her eyes when Alex turned a corner and suddenly hit the brakes. Jared out of her brooding she blinked to get the green and black sunspots out of her vision. Pushing up with her hands she lifted herself timidly out of her seat and unbuckled the belt. She plopped back down when she saw a car wreck and two police cruisers, a fire truck, and an ambulance blocking the on rap to the highway.

Bored, or annoyed, she looked back over her shoulder, but dozens of cars, each oblivious to the wreck, began to come to a stop behind the SUV. To the left was a car, to the right a concrete divider, and behind them dozens of vehicles.

Barely eighteen hours after contact with Skynet, a grueling fight in the Archway building, and the revelation Skynet was more entrenched than Sarah had thought possible, traffic, traffic (!) was impeding their mission to save the world and prevent Armageddon.

Even though there was a digital clock on the central dash of the Tahoe, Sarah reached into her pocket and flipped open her phone. She scrolled through the options to change the 'Theme' and 'Background' and 'Ringtone'. Trying to sit still she could still feel adrenaline, or anger- she wasn't sure, surging through her.

It was all because of last night.

When John had come back to the apartment, Sarah had crept back to her room, hoping her son would not have noticed. She had heard him ask about her and had heard him walk towards her room. Well, she had assumed it was him. Sarah couldn't hear the machines when they walked; they could glide across broken glass and not be heard.

Then what had surprised her more than anything was what she had seen when she was slowly walking to her bedside. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a two people, a boy and a girl, walking down through the courtyard at the apartment complex they were staying at, and around the corner towards the pool deck.

Back in the present Sarah, with sunglasses on looked over in Alex's direction. The machine was looking forward and for a second she thought how it would be to never grow bored and always stay focused on the mission and the task in front of her. The machine was driving them to Coronado Island to see if Mrs. Carwin was still alive (and try to scam their way into her house to see if her husband had any information on what he was working on) and seemed to be perfectly content just sitting there.

"Yes?"

Sarah blinked when she realized the machine had spoken to her and knocked her out of her daydreaming.

"You were looking at me like you were expecting something," the Terminator dutifully informed her on seeing her confusion.

"It's…" she hesitated, "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." She scooted and rearranged in the seat so she was facing the bland, sand-colored concrete divider.

"It's never 'nothing'," the machine said, looking over. "When a girl says 'it's nothing' that means something is wrong."

"Wait… w-what?" She shook her head and looked back and forth, thinking there was someone else in the car and hoping she'd heard wrong. "Where did you hear _that_ from?" She demanded.

"The future. One of the soldiers said it."

She cut him off with a loud, forced shush. "Listen… I don't really care…" she thought of that for a second, "actually… I do care. I want to know what happened last night."

"We went to the Archway building where Skynet was waiting. We were attacked. I hijacked a helicopter-"

"Don't play those games. You all _pretend_ to take everything so literally. The T-800 did it, Cameron does it, you do it… it's annoying," Sarah hissed.

"We may be here a while," Alex cautiously informed her, careful to not set her off again.

"Where did you and John go this morning?"

"I told him about the future, Sarah," the machine replied honestly. He began looking over but stopped halfway and his eyes centered and focused on the passenger-side dash. "Your son had many questions. He asked the right questions."

Sarah felt a small tear of sweat fall from her temple.

"What were those questions?" The worried mother demanded.

"I told him how I was recruited for this mission. I told him that even those who hated us despised us even still saw us as their best possible opportunity to avert Judgment Day, Sarah." His voice grew harsher. "You saw what was in the Archway building, Sarah. Those I-950s are still organic and they were shot dozens of times point black with five point five-six millimeter rounds, Sarah." The machine stressed 'dozens' and slowed his speech down to make sure the fighter next to him would understand.

"We've done pretty well so far," she countered. She felt confident after that jab and threw in a hook. "We took out Cromartie-"

"Cameron sent me the video files. He was damaged… extensively so from the bank. A fully operational T-Eight Eight Eight…" Alex shook his head. "If it wasn't for Cameron Cromartie would have killed you in 1999... or any of the other terminators in 2007 and 2008."

She held up a tense, shaking hand. "Do not marginalize what we've done. Too many people have died."

"I'm not," he said. "What you did helped save many people on Judgment Day… and because of the four of you, the Resistance was better organized, years early. But it wasn't enough, Sarah. Skynet had the momentum because the world was fractured and no one knew how to fight Terminators efficiently… twenty, thirty soldiers to fight one terminator is an exercise in futility… humans cannot be built."

"That's right. We can't be built. We're not throwaways."

"There were victories, Sarah, but not enough." He sounded annoyed. "You can't stop progress, Sarah. I'm here to get you to realize you need our help if you wish to win." He turned to her, pulling the seatbelt forward and leaning on the hand rest. "Is it so hard to accept that Terminators are not all alike?" He told John Judgment Day was impossible to stop but Sarah wasn't ready to accept that. "Do you not realize we don't all want to see the world burned?"

The cold Sarah began to feel told her the disbelief in the terminator's voice was genuine.

* * *

||||||||||==October 2031==||||||||||

_Captain Alex Planck was standing, stiff as always, in the strategic operation center at Tech Com HQ analyzing an ever increasing number of action and status reports when he heard the light footsteps of a war weary soldier. _

"_I think if we coordinate at these locations, our two forces will be able to drive Skynet from Lisbon by January," Major Henri Durand of the Arm__é__e de Terre, __1er Régiment de Parachutistes d'Infanterie de Marine had said. He was the liaison officer from the European Union and NATO-Europe. «_

"_We can send more soldiers," Alex offered. "A special operations detachment…" he accessed his memory files, "India Detachment is operating in Italy…"_

"_Oh God… then keep them in Italy!" Major Durand announced forcefully, seriously. He broke into laughter and patted the machine on the soldier. "I think the Italians need them more than we do judging by history…" He winked._

_Alex ran the operational history of the Italian military through his neural net. "I don't-"_

"_Just a joke… anyway, I think us Frenchmen leading the charge with that Charlie Detachment of yours plus the Spanish and Portuguese on our flanks will be able to beat two Skynet brigades," he said confidently, slapping the machine on the back again. "No?"_

_At this, Alex did nod. He understood it to be rhetorical, with the proper answer as 'yes.'_

_Alex, who was facing away from the door saw the major stand on his tip toes, raising himself so he could see above and past Alex's shoulder, towards the door. A sly grin steadily grew on the right corner of the major's face._

"_I think, my friend, your superior officer wishes to speak to you," Durand noted with a bob of his chin._

_Alex's face went blank, expressionless, and he turned slowly. Major Durand was grinning- the expressionless, blank face the machines wore, he knew, was when they were unhappy or annoyed._

_The man in front of Alex was cautious, but confident. The older, shorter man had walked up to the captain and major straight as a machine, shoulders back and chest out. His uniform was immaculate, dirt seemingly allergic to his tanned boots and the blouse was impossibly clean and crisp, and was clean shaven with short, graying hair._

_The machine came to attention, but the officer waved him back to ease with a small flick of his wrist._

"_Colonel Srecko," the machine greeted. At seventy-three inches the machine had to look down at the soldier, Vasa Srecko, who was half a head shorter. "How are you today, sir?"_

"_I'm well, thank you, Captain." He looked around the ops center and turned his head back towards the entrance. There were dozens of men and AIs analyzing and processing data. _

_The strategic planning AIs had eyes and ears everywhere in the command center. He didn't want them to overhear. And there were too many men and machines he didn't want to become suspicious._

"_Major Durand, I need to borrow the captain for a while," he informed the liaison officer. The major nodded. Srecko turned his undivided attention back to the machine. "Walk with me, Captain." He turned sideways and put his arm towards the door._

_The two walked from the ops center and entered the Colonel's private office. It was small, as were many of the offices built into the mountain, and utilitarian. The desk was wood, and old, and while the chair had seen better days but still had its padding and the leather seat was only frayed at the stitching, not torn. _

_A black office lamp illuminated the desk with a soft yellow light and two overhead fluorescent bulbs provided the illumination for the drab room. A dull hum was the only sound that could be heard when the door was shut._

_To the desk's right was a map of the western North American continent. Dozens of red pins marked major Skynet bases and dozens more black pins marked known Skynet forward operating bases. On the left-hand wall was a larger map with Skynet controlled territory in red._

_On the walls flanking the door were two paintings, which could only be described as completely out of place, as the only wall decorations not associated with military operations. Alex had been told that the Colonel had salvaged them from a private residence in Laguna Beach early in the war._

_They would have been worth millions twenty years ago. Now they were truly priceless- relics of an era twenty years destroyed._

_A tablet computer, two PDAs, and a stack of papers were arranged neatly on his desk and held down with an old eagle statue paperweight. Behind the desk was a small table with a plastic jug of water and glasses, and sitting silently, a set of photographs of the Colonel's deceased family._

_The Colonel motioned to a simple gray and black metal chair for the machine to sit._

"_You know…" he walked back and faced the table and picked up a picture of his dead wife, daughter, and son, "some people who were lucky enough to find pictures of their loved ones… they keep them on their desk. General Perry keeps a set of photos on his desk. Do you know why I keep these behind me, Captain?"_

_The machine looked away towards one of the gray and bland concrete corners as he thought. His neural net CPU could do almost anything. He understood loss and the importance of family, but no answer his CPU suggested seemed to fit._

"_No."_

_Srecko grunted. "Of course not. I keep them behind me because I know they're with God, watching over me. I don't keep them in front of me because I cannot look them in the face." He turned around and fell into his chair. "I've ordered untold numbers to their deaths in the hope that one death may save a hundred." He grunted. "Or maybe it's survivor's guilt…? I can't answer that, I don't know."_

_The Colonel had emigrated to the US from Serbia in the mid-nineties and attended Virginia Polytechnic in Blacksburg on an Army ROTC scholarship, graduated in 2001, and went was accepted into the US Army Rangers a few years after that. He had been serving a fifteen month tour in Iraq, when he met his wife, an Iraqi from Al Hillah in Babil, working for the US embassy in early 2004. They'd gotten married in February 2005 in the Green Zone and had a son and daughter, twins, in 2006._

_He'd been in Afghanistan when the bombs fell and missile flew. He'd been with the Rangers conducting missions across the border in Pakistan, north of Lasht in the North-West Frontier Province. Remote and isolated, his entire company had survived Judgment Day._

_It'd taken him and the US Army remnant months to return to the United States._

"_You and I are not friends, Captain." He stated after a minute of silence._

"_That is correct, sir. We disagree on many-"_

_The aged Colonel with a pointed and skinny head of thinning black hair streaked with gray and a face burned by plasma fire held up his hand and shook his head back and forth._

"_No, it's not because we disagree, Captain. It's because you're a machine."_

_Alex kept his posture perfectly straight and still and didn't move a single of his synthetic facial muscles._

_Srecko chuckled and shook his head again. "That," he pointed, "is why. What if I said I didn't like you because you were a black man or an Asian or Muslim? If you were human you would be upset, angry." He leaned back. "Even Cameron takes the verbal abuse... I don't know how she does it. I know why she does it. Still. You weren't around, weren't built when the Resistance found out she was a machine. Even as a colonel it didn't stop privates and first lieutenants from insulting her." He snorted. "You don't know how many soldiers I had to take to the ground because of insubordination and disrespect after that… and now look," he waved his hands, "there's tens of thousands of you operating with our forces."_

"_What do you want me to say, Colonel?" Alex asked. "Your view on machines is well-known to the command staff, though publicly you support General Connor's policy on the use of machine units." Alex pointed out. He looked at a grinning Colonel and the dark thoughts circulating in Srecko's eyes. "Maybe we tolerate the verbal abuse because it is from a-" _

"_A… what?" His left lip flickered into a unilateral smirk as his same eye narrowed to study the machine. "We're in private," he gestured to the four walls, "say it."_

"_That's not my place, sir," Alex said._

_The abrasive Colonel rolled his eyes. "I've commanded our Army Rangers for ten years now and watched the integration of the machine SFOD into our forces. I want you to finish your sentence, Alex. I can make it an order if I must…" he looked down at his tablet and then back over his shoulder, catching a small portion of the photo frame with his family in the corner of his eye, "…just know this meeting has a purpose, Captain."_

"_An order will not be necessary, sir. Maybe we tolerate verbal abuse because it is from a species of narcissists?"_

"_I don't think I've ever heard a machine use that word before," the Colonel quipped. He leaned forward until his elbows rested on the desk. He rearranged his PDAs so they were parallel. "That's actually good. Now tell me why… convince a machine hater such as myself why humanity is a race of narcissists?"_

_Machines did not become uncomfortable often, but this conversation was becoming… strange to Alex. Assuming Srecko was telling the truth, and Alex reasoned he was, the machine began running simulations and probabilities as to what the 'purpose' of this meeting was._

"_It took years for the General to convince the military and civilian leaders to accept AIs. With us we've inflicted heavy casualties on Skynet, slowed down its advanced, and even pushed it back. The strategic operations AIs can guess within acceptable margins of errors the battle plans Skynet will use. The administrative AIs also run the refugee cities better than you can. Our security AIs have made more progress in the last two years breaking Skynet code than human cryptologists did in ten."_

_Colonel Srecko shook his head and ran a scarred hand through his thin hair in frustration._

_He breathed out. Alex didn't understand and the man was not surprised._

"_That's not what I had in mind, Captain. You just listed everything that is wrong with machines- they're built for a purpose and that's it. You run security, you run administration… you yearn for nothing else other than that purpose. Why do administrator AIs administer? Because they were built to… You're a Spartoi… have you heard the myth?" He asked._

_Alex nodded. Greek mythology and antiquity were subjects which had survived the war quite well._

"_They were the sown men, grown to war and born as adult soldiers by Cadmus… they went on to found the city of Thebes," Alex said._

_The Colonel nodded and a patronizing smiled graced his lips so briefly, so quickly, even Alex had a hard time seeing it._

"_And that is what a machine, a terminator is; Spartoi. Grown to be soldiers and nothing more," the Colonel pointed out. "Thebes also aided in the defense of Greece at the Hot Gates in its time of greatest need…" his voice grew distant and his eyes dark, "and betrayed them in their hour of greatest need."_

_Alex's eyes narrowed at the insinuation that machines like him would suddenly betray humanity._

"_There is nothing which would lead us to betray humanity, Colonel… sir. Not even hatred from those we fight for."_

"_Noble sentiments." He rolled his eyes. "But they could be completely worthless… you're a machine. You can say anything." He pointed at Alex's skull. "You can run through a million different phrases in that neural chip of yours in a second and analyze them with your files on human behavior and know how we'll respond… but it doesn't always work, does it?" He grinned._

_The creases on the middle-aged man wrinkled his face._

"_We're terminators, Colonel. But how are we any different than the children raised in refugee cities, conscripted into the Army, and sent to war? Human and machine are being bred and built for this war against Skynet," Alex retorted. "Since 2011 all you, we have done, is fight or help others fight."_

"_You think we're the same?" he snickered and looked away, not bothering to look the machine in the eye when he spoke. His contempt was clear._

"_You're biological life. We're technological life."_

"_What does that matter?" Srecko waved it away. "Technological life?" He spat. "There are things machines will never do. You cannot possess faith, you cannot commune with God, you cannot appreciate beauty, and you cannot create art."_

"_You are wrong- we're learning to do all of that, some of us have."_

_Srecko laughed, hand over the stomach, and then brought it up to clench his ACU tunic. "I've even seen some machines in church… it's funny, you think God would give a machine a soul? We're building a race of delusional machines." A mocking sigh escaped his lungs and he gently face-palmed. He wiped his hand back through his thinning hair and refocused on Alex, patiently awaiting his response._

_There was no other purpose for this meeting, Alex determined. The captain stood up and came to attention. "Sir, permission to be dismissed?" He growled._

_The commander immigrant stood up and leaned forward with his hands placed solidly on his desk. He twisted his head left and right and studied the machine._

"_You're upset… good. Tell me, Captain, before I dismiss you, if you could be human, would you? Are you proud of being a machine?"_

"_Nev-er. And yes, sir, I am."_

_Colonel Vasa Srecko walked slowly over to the side of the machine, still at attention, until his chest was almost touching his arm. _

_The human's hands were clasped tightly behind his back and he looked over the machine, searching. Eventually he looked the machine in the eye, and Alex could see a coldness not even Skynet Terminators were capable of._

_What was he doing?_

"_Come with me," he said quietly. He stepped to the side and opened the door. "You've just been selected for the most important mission of this war."_

_  
The machine quickly followed._

_The Colonel had led the machine down to the bowels of the headquarters; a massive warren of underground tunnels built over the last fifteen years by humans and expanded by machines. The corridors, like the Colonel's office were drab and gray. Exposed piping and fiber optic lines lined the top of the walls and hung from the ceiling._

_The base was a stronghold for the Resistance and its close proximity to Los Angeles allowed the Resistance to continually launch raids and pressure the largest and main Skynet complex on the west coast of the North American continent._

"_You've received authorization to come to this level," Srecko said, keeping his eyes forward as he informed the following machine. "This is the bottom level of the facility. It exists on no blueprint and I don't have to tell you, Captain, about operational security. What you see and who you see will never be discussed outside of this level."_

"_Understood, sir," Alex said._

* * *

_General John Connor stopped in the center of his quarter and spun around in a slow three-sixty as his eyes darted everywhere. He leaned back on an old spin bike he'd found nearly six years ago and had been using to PT in the morning, and rested on the handlebars._

"_They're under your dresser," he heard from the other room._

_He snapped his fingers._

"_Yeah, I wonder how they always get under there," he asked himself quietly as he pushed off and stalked over to where his boots had decided to hide themselves while he slept. He bent down but stopped after a sort wince- the knee injury he'd sustained last month in Vancouver, a sprain, had been acting up. With a sturdy hand gripping the dresser he bent down until his arm lashed out and snapped up the hidden boots._

_He slipped one foot and then the other into his tanned combat boots and after lacing them, walked from his bedroom and shut the door, and into his office where his protector and confidant stood dutifully skimming the morning reports._

_Cameron handed him a file folder. "These are the latest after action reports from the 182__nd__," she reported. "They pushed Skynet forces out from Eugene."_

_He smiled at the machine and took the offered reports and skimmed them quickly. "Casualties are lighter than expected… that's good news… and the 212th should be able to ambush them in Cottage Grove if they use the highway… which I bet they will." He looked up and winked. "I think Derek can handle it… let him earn those silver oak leafs." He flipped through the last pages. "The French and Germans are doing pretty well… pretty quiet though…"_

"_Western EU forces are preparing an attack on Lisbon later this month. Charlie Detachment is with them." Cameron observed as she looked over his shoulder at the open files and small maps. "It's going to heat up soon. Skynet will launch counter attacks throughout Western Europe from its African bases."_

_John handed the reports back to Cameron who placed them on a metal table in the corner. He was quiet and visibly worried._

"_Your uncle is a capable commander," Cameron commented. "He will do well as battalion commander." She heard a low hum of agreement from the general. She walked over to a metal standalone cabinet and opened it, pulling out a plasma carbine rifle. She turned as she slipped the rifle onto a tactical sling and frowned. "John, take it off."_

"_What?" He asked innocently. "I'll be in the base the entire morning."_

_She motioned to his ACU jacket he was zipping up._

"_And Skynet Terminators have successfully made it down here before…" she pointed out._

_He tried to look away, but the way she could bore her eyes into him was like a deer caught in headlights._

"_Not in the last seventeen months," he pointed out, a wry smile on his lips. "And twelve days."_

_Cameron ignored him and quickly grabbed the armored vest laying flat on his desk and held it out for him. She locked her arm so it was straight and level, the vest inches from his face. She was also in front of him, blocking his access to the reinforced blast door so he couldn't leave._

"_Cameron, I hate wearing that thing… it's… creepy…" she shuddered. "A regular vest would be-"_

"_You have no difficulty wearing it in the field," she pointed out._

"_I'll wear it in the field without complaint, but here…?" he eyed t awkwardly, his face clear to Cameron he didn't want to even touch the vest unless forced. _

"_It was a gift from them, a token of appreciation of alliance. It can stop plasma bolts, ballistic impacts, and stabbing weapons and reform into bandages to stop potential…" she realized stating the facts would get anywhere, " and is significantly lighter than our ceramic armor…" she said. Cameron wiggled her arm and the armor followed. She pushed it forward to a reluctant John Connor. She tried to appeal to his logical side, but decided to try something else. _

_Her eye brows arched down, her eyes moistened, and she sniffed. She looked towards the floor and pouted. "John please, for your safety… please…" Her bottom lip quivered. "And… for me John, please…"_

_The General sighed and attempted to feign mock indignation and annoyance with her. _

"_Damnit, Cameron, I hate it when you do that."_

_He reached out and took the vest. He could see the glistening metal under a torn piece of fabric. It was liquid metal; gifted to him by the rogue liquid metal terminators to keep him safe, in honor of their alliance._

_He admitted it was better safe than sorry and still, they would repeat this exercise again tomorrow morning where he protested and she steadfastly looked after his safety._

_He slipped off his ACU jacket and put the vest on. It was thin and almost impossible to see when he put his jacket back on._

"_Happy now?" He looked up after slapping on the last Velcro tie and saw what he could only describe as a wicked smile plastered on her face. "Have I ever won an argument by the way?"_

"_Yes." She turned to open the door, but stopped and turned back. "But not for a long time," she added._

_He strapped on his sidearm and tugged down at his jacket to smooth out any wrinkles._

"_Well, I hope you're happy now."_

"_Of course I am, John." She opened the door and held out her hand, which he grabbed. "I think we're needed in the temporal operations center," she said. "And they will also be there."_

"_Great," he looked to the side then rolled his eyes. "Dealing with them…"_

"_Morning, sir!" The two centuries snapped to attention and gave a crisp salute, which the General returned._

"_Sergeant Kelly, Brooks, how are you two this morning?" The General asked. _

_He stopped and briefly inspected Kelly's uniform. The General nodded his approval. They were always meticulous._

"_We're doing well, sir. Nothing out of the ordinary, sir," Kelly reported._

"_You um…" Connor looked at the century for a moment, "you were hit with a plasma bolt at Triple Divide, in the elbow, correct?" The Sergeant answered in the affirmative. _

"_Yes, sir. The techs fixed it sir. It's almost like it was straight out of the factory."_

_Connor nodded and had them carry on. Cameron came out of their quarters and began closing the blast door._

"_You think he's the right one to send back?" she asked._

_John shrugged to Cameron's back as she closed the hyperalloy door, put her hand on the security panel, and waited until she heard the half dozen metal clicks of the locking mechanism._

"_The liq… polymimetic terminators took a shining to him after Triple Divide," the General observed. Cameron looked over at him and rolled her eyes at the pun. "Hey, if you pout, I'll start with the horrible puns," he said playfully behind a toothy grin. _

"_We're even then," she asked with an expectant nod. John nodded back at her. "Good."_

"_He kept them from deploying the weapon… with that biomechanoid virus so he caught their attention," he pointed out. "Anyway, you're the one, if I remember correctly, who began to tell him our past," he said as he draped an arm around her waist and brought her in for a quick walking hug before releasing her, "so he's your choice."_

* * *

_Captain Planck and Colonel Srecko passed through the last security scanner and waited patiently as the blast door behind them snapped shut, sealed with a hiss of air, and a click of magnetic locks._

"_Please remain still," a voice all around them advised. Colonel Srecko closed his eyes as the room lit itself in blue, red, and violet light. "You may proceed," the voice said._

_The door in front of them opened quickly and slid into a recessed alcove. The two stepped into a short corridor which branched off in two separate directions at a T-intersection with a red arrow pointing one way and a green arrow the other._

"_You should be honored, Planck. Maybe… two dozen people have access to this facility," Srecko said, stepping over the knee knockers and into the drab gray and sandstone-colored corridors. "This is where you will be spending much of your time now, Captain."_

_The captain and colonel continued walking abreast of one another, turning right once and left again, until they came to the last blast door. Security was tight, but not as rigid as the procedure to enter this level. Srecko typed in a seven digit command code and pressed his eye to a retinal scanner. A light above the door blinked green twice, and then the door slid back._

_The room inside had computer workstations, wall monitors, and monitors suspended at intervals on the ceiling and a dozen different men, women, and machines were working quietly. In the corner Alex could see behind a see-through covering was the neural net processors for the strategic AIs Tech Com had developed._

"_Ah, Captain Planck," the machine heard. It was the general. He came to attention. "At ease, soldier." Connor walked over and looked the machine up and down and back to Srecko. "I hope the Colonel didn't give you a rough enough time."_

_  
"Sir?" The machine asked, confused._

_General Connor motioned with a sideways head bob for the machine to follow. He did so, maintaining a respectable distance behind Connor. They walked to a second chamber, filled with strange computers and devices Alex didn't recognize. Cameron was standing over one of the workstations reading and working so quickly no human could have ever kept up. She stopped, smiled at John, and walked over to the three soldiers. _

_There were three others besides Cameron in the chamber; two men, and a third, a young woman with sandy-blonde hair and light blue-gray eyes. She looked up and saw the machine undoubtedly running some sort of assessment. She smiled and brushed a piece of hair back behind her ear. She winked at him and then turned her back and resumed her work._

"_Colonel, I see he passed your test," Cameron said with a nod of recognition to the Colonel. _

"_A test, ma'am?"_

_Srecko snickered. "Yes, Captain, a test."_

"_Don't worry, Captain, the Colonel still dislike you and me," Cameron stated in a plain, almost bored voice. "His dislike of machines and our race is quite genuine." She looked at him, but kept herself from glaring._

"_Dislike? Yes. But like I said," Colonel Srecko said to Planck, "machines can do things humans can't." he pat his chest. "We're not that hard to kill," he said, and pointed at Alex, "but you all are _very_ difficult to kill. And where we're going to send you and the others, we need people who are hard to kill. And ironically, machines like you, Planck, are our best weapon against Skynet."_

"_Captain, Colonel, this way," Connor stepped in front of a workstation Cameron had been at. He typed in a command and one of the large monitors in the room blinked to life. "Captain, you've heard the rumors about time travel?"_

"_Yes, sir. What I was told by you sir… ma'am," he addressed General Connor and Cameron both, "would suggest that and I would be led to believe that, even if science says time travel is impossible."_

"_Robots and AI were impossible at one point," Srecko pointed out. "I didn't believe it at first, either. Even after I figured it out… what year was it again, sir?"_

_Connor closed an eye and thought. "I think it was 2015, Colonel when you found out…" he looked at Planck, "and believe me when I say he was quite pissed about it. It almost degenerated into a firefight between our two groups." He figured Planck would place all the blame on Srecko. "But I think we can all understand the… surprise." He suggested as a reasonable excuse for why Srecko and his men and Connor and his men almost killed each other._

_Srecko grunted lightly at the memory._ "_Yes sir. And I think it was Master Sergeant Bob Brown who talked me out of doing anything rash."_

_Cameron had been patiently waiting while the two men reminisced. "General, I think we should show Captain Planck what temporal operations Skynet has been conducting."_

_Connor retrieved a small SD card from his pocket and handed it to the machine. "Once we're done with this briefing you'll have to go over everything in detail. That card on it has decades of information. This is just a basic rundown… plus you have someone else to meet with whom you will be working with."_

_Colonel Srecko took a step to the back of the small group, exchanging his place for Planck's so he could see. General Connor began the short briefing by pulling up a strange set of data points and a flattened map of the Earth on the wall monitors._

"_This facility contains specialized equipment which took years for us to salvage. In the other room is the time displacement equipment with an intact time displace array. The array is currently non-functional. We're not exactly sure… but the more use the TDA is put through the more temporal…" he struggled to find the right word._

"_Smog," Cameron said._

"_Yes, thank you Cameron," Connor smiled, "'smog' is created. Skynet's TDA is far more powerful than ours and… well, I'll let them explain."_

_One of the two men who had been in the temporal command center walked forward and extended a hand to the machine with a blank face even a Terminator would be envious of._

"_We have to thank you, Captain, for the assault on the Triple Divide Research Facility…"_

"_You're… welcome," he replied cautiously, grabbing the other man's hand. The sensors in his hand alerted him to what the man was. If Alex were human, he'd have recoiled from the surprise. Instead he narrowed his eyes, his head moving forward slightly as he scanned the man._

_The actions were subtle, but obvious to seasoned anti-Skynet warriors. Colonel Srecko looked like he was waiting for the revelation to come, and General Connor was slightly amused, while Cameron, at his side, was impassive and waiting patiently._

"_You're a-" Planck started before the man interrupted._

"_Yes, Captain, I am a polymimetic life form," he informed the curious machine, withdrawing his hand. "You were selected by them," the polymimetic life form gestured to John and Cameron, "for this mission… and per our alliance with Tech Com… we agree. Your actions at Triple Divide, stopping the release of the biomechanoid virus… it saved us. For that, you have our endless gratitude. Thank you."_

"_You're welcome… sir," the machine replied uneasily._

"_Titles and honorifics are not necessary with us, Captain." The polymimetic said. "But you can refer to my present form as 'Gabriel' if you wish."_

_If Alex completely understood what being uncomfortable meant he'd have felt it then. The rumors surrounding the polymimetic life forms were extensive; from them all being a single, shared consciousness and entity which broke off pieces of itself like this 'Gabriel' to 'Gabriel' actually being composed of multiple, smaller entities which coalesced into larger polymimetic structures. The other theories were that the polymimetics were nanomachines to some more ridiculous theories they were actual pools of liquid metal magically imbued with life from some ancient artifact. _

"_I think this is the Captain's first meeting with one of you," Connor stated as he picked up on the machine's apprehension. "Well… that he's known about…" he looked at the machine and shrugged._

_The polymimetic metal terminator nodded with a slight side tilt of the head. "There are very few of us, but yes, we have seen you before Captain." A grin even a metal Terminator would describe as 'creepy' began to draw slowly on the polymimetic terminator's face. It was, of course, flawless, perfect, and steady. "You wouldn't have seen us unless we wanted you to see us."_

"_Uh huh…" General Connor muttered with a bit of caution. _

_Cameron poked him gently in the side, reminding him to 'tolerate' the presence of the polymimetic. He was tempted to roll his eyes, but even though the liquid metal had its back to him, it could see everything around it simultaneously. It was one giant organism._

"_Captain," Gabriel began again, "for years, decades, centuries, Skynet and humanity, and in some time lines, anti-Skynet terminators, have been fighting a temporal war." He turned and side stepped and placed his hands over the control console. Ten fingers became dozens. "Each time Skynet sends back an agent more temporal pollution… smog, is created. It takes more and more energy to break through the smog for an accurate time jump. Eventually not even the output of every fusion reactor on Earth will be able to sustain a time displacement sphere to the recent past. Skynet has been sending dozens, hundreds of terminators and its human servants back in time. Where, exactly, we don't know."_

"_But we have a good idea," Connor said._

"_Sir?"_

"_Skynet could send its forces hundreds of years back in time," Connor began explaining. He held up his finger and gestured a silent 'however.' Gabriel brought up a representation of Connor's next point. "The further back in time you displace… there is an exponential rise in energy. Even with Skynet's extensive network of fusion reactors the power to displace even centuries is…"_

"_Fantastic," Cameron filled in. The General smiled at her gently and nodded. "And the infrastructure to build Skynet is not in place. The dawn of computing in the mid twentieth-century is seen as the extreme limit to where it is practical to send Skynet temporal agents. The mid 1970s to early 1980s have been deemed ideal."_

"_Yes," Gabriel agreed. "Ideal because the Internet and computing technology is still in its relative infancy. It allows Skynet to build companies and have them reach critical mass- conglomerations with influence in computers, defense, aerospace… by the mid 1990s and early 2000s, which are essential to build and develop Skynet." His dozens of fingers flew across the terminals and thousands of images flashed across the monitors giving Alex the information needed to understand the necessities for the development of an AI such as Skynet._

"_When I was going through ROTC we often debated what war would be like with AI," a very quiet Srecko chimed in, "and we dismissed it because it seemed fanciful, like science fiction." He scoffed and clasped his hands in front of him. "Smart warfare- with AI- was a lofty and ambitious goal. It's something I didn't think was possible, but in the words of a then 19 year old smart ass 'Rott-Cee' cadet I thought it was 'fucking ridiculous' that AI would ever have a place on the battlefield to the point human soldiers would be displaced." He shifted his weight uneasily as the machines in the room, and the General, gave him his moment to speak. "The fact is you can't stop progress, Captain Planck." John, Cameron, and Gabriel all nodded or tilted their heads in agreement. _

"_Colonel Srecko is correct," Gabriel observed, "you cannot stop progress."_

"_We tried that before, Captain," General Connor said. "When Cameron came back she, my mother, and my uncle and I… we tried to _stop_ Skynet instead of preparing."_

_Cameron stepped forward and leaned slightly on the command console while returned to a perfect replica of human form and turned around._

_Cameron began to explain further. _

"_While we have to work to slow Skynet, Captain, we need to prepare. The introduction of machine detachments came too late in the war- Skynet has reached a point of 'critical mass' where its production significantly outweighs our capabilities to destroy it."_

_Colonel Srecko produced a small data card and handed it to the machine newly indoctrinated in the temporal war. And as calmly as he held himself, there was a looming cloud of dread that Skynet was this powerful; from a rumor to fact, Skynet could manipulate time._

_It was a frightening tactical and strategic revelation to have confirmed._

_Colonel Srecko filled him in on a brief summary of his future mission: "So what we need from you, Captain, in a nutshell, is to make sure once Skynet goes active that you and the other machines we'll be sending back earn the trust of humanity and show people like myself we can trust you. We already have a few special units…IK-950s and TSK-300s working from within the US government and military. But that's not enough."_

"_What we tried to do," Connor said, "was try and stop the AI development. But with off-site storage and the nature of the Internet… backups… and the military's propensity for secrecy and compartmentalization, we never stopped it all."_

_Cameron, knowing what John was going to say, said it for him; "Death by a thousand cuts doesn't work if your enemy has no blood." She shook her head. "When I was sent back we had a goal and had an idea where Skynet was. But it never sent back as many temporal agents as it has now. It's too engrained to just stop. It's learned, Captain. Skynet is pragmatic, smart, calculating and it knows where it… screwed up… in the past." _

"_It's… Machiavellian," Srecko interrupted with downcast eyes and an empty voice._

_Cameron nodded. "Yes. One terminator can set the wheels of fate in motion." A look of hatred, for Skynet, and what it had done crept across her face. Her eyes burned. "We need to fix our mistakes. We can't fight Skynet on its own terms. We need to be ready and force it to fight on our terms."_

* * *

||||||||||==San Diego (10 November, late morning)==||||||||||

In the dim light of an abandoned and decrepit garage in southern San Diego, Derek could barely see the dark, war-stained eyes of the petite, hard soldier staring back at him like a raptor zeroed in on its prey. Jesse Flores didn't move as Derek tried in vain to match her hard look and fierce determination to wear him down.

"Derek," the clam, collected voice of the small submarine commander said.

As soft as her voice was in carried far in the dusty, abandoned garage it seemed to echo and ring in Derek's ears.

"…Jesse…" he said in that voice he used when he knew she was planning something.

"…Derek…"

He crossed he arms and casually leaned back on his truck. He was through playing games. He'd already cased on Doctor Sam Wells's home. It was nice, very nice and something kings would have killed for after Judgment Day. No one had been there for days, weeks, even.

Derek slowly and obviously twisted his wrist and bent his head forward ever so slightly to see his watch. He watched the second hand tick by for a sixth of a minute before turning his same war-stained green eyes to his Jesse.

"Jesse… I called you down here, you agree to come… and I explained to you-"

She cut him off with a shift horizontal knife-hand gesture.

"Jesus, Derek… do you understand the… understand what you just told me?" Her brow creased down deeply. "I told you I was here-"

"And on a mission, yes," he filled in hurriedly. "And none of this we knew of when I was sent back by Connor. You didn't see what those… those things were! Sarah put an entire magazine of five-five-six into the things back and it kept going! It was _human_, Jesse."

A mad finger extended and a snarl appeared. "NO! Those _things_ are not human, Derek." She began pacing in front of her black BMW 550i sedan and tapping on the hood when she walked by. "Those things are not human and never will be human, Derek."

He stepped forward and grabbed both her shoulder, but she struggled loose and resumed her pacing.

"I didn't mean they were human-human, Jesse. Damnit. They weren't machines. They weren't metal like Cameron, not like her."

"_It_. _It. It_, Derek!" She snarled. "You all are too close to it. To both of them now."

"That's not very fair, Jesse," Derek meekly retorted. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but for the last week or so… it's like something's changed." She turned her back towards him and he glared at her in perhaps some vain effort that the truth would reveal itself if he just stared longer and harder.

"You really have no idea," she whispered.

Jesse reached into her pocket and her car trunk beeped and opened. Stalking over she reached in and with both hands, hefted the black, long gun cases out and smash them into Derek's chest.

"Christ, Jesse, calm down," he half-way ordered as he wrapped his arms around the first case before grabbing its handle and letting it dangle by his side. He stepped in front of Jesse and grabbed the second from her car before, he was assuming, use it as some weapon to slowly beat him to death. _What the hell is wrong with her?_ He thought. _Apprehension and secrecy is one thing… this, I don't know what this is_. "Hey, Jesse, I appreciate this." He smiled.

She allowed herself only to offer him a half-hearted roll of the eyes and Derek, knowing that was all he was going to get, gave up, turned around and slid the gun cases into the open truck bed before locking it. He kept his back to her until he felt a petite little hand on the small of his back.

"I don't know what it is, Derek," he heard behind him. He turned and Jesse was staring absently into his chest. "Everything you've told me…" she looked away towards the dusty floor littered with discarded tools, broken glass, and rat shit, "and I don't know if this fight is even worth it anymore."

Derek reached out an enveloped her in a giant, tender hug, and rested his chin on her head. He could smell the sweat shampoo in her midnight-black hair and feel his chest warm from her breath through his shirt.

"Jesse, we're still in this fight." He sniffed as the dust from her pacing and throwing of gun cases began to reach his nostrils. "We're in this fight and I'm not going anywhere and-"

She pushed back and locked her dark eyes with his glazy green ones.

"Not going anywhere? You left while I was on a submarine in the middle of the Pacific, Derek. When I came back you were gone…" she closed her eyes and struggled to add, "…and I had no one when I needed you."

"Jesse, I came back to save us, to stop it! Stop Skynet… remember?" He lifted her chin and kissed her forehead.

She looked disgusted and broke free from his hug.

"What about us, Derek?"

"Us, Jesse?"

"You came back and left me in the future when I needed you." Her hand drifted down past her stomach and rested on her belt buckle.

"This war is larger than the both of us." He shook his head in awe that Jesse would be so selfish. "How can you… I came back to save _billions_ of people, Jesse. That's more-"

"Important." She stated.

He looked away. "Yes." He looked right at her. "It is more important."

"You don't understand, Derek, you don't," she said emphatically. "This war… you told me… how can you stop something like that?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "He… it said there were more people coming through to help us stop it."

"Machines? _Metal?_" She cursed the metal monsters which haunted her every thought. "Derek… we can't win if they're still with him. If…" she felt dirty for using its name, "…Cameron is still there with him. All of this is because of her. _You_ have no idea what will happen if it's with him for twenty years. And now two of them, filling his head with… ideas that the machines are what… our equals, Dereks?" She wanted to spit so badly, the taste in her mouth from even the idea that machines and humans are equal was sickening.

"Jesse…" he tried to comfort her.

"There were rumors when I jumped back, when I decided to come back…" she was swaying back and forth on her heels, stepping forward and backward like her body was arguing with itself what to do, "and I never… rumors of classified units of machines, machines which were built _by_ Tech Com, Tech Com, by Connor himself and… her."

"Jesse… I don't, I don't understand what's going on here. What is this all about? Cameron was never with him for twenty years, she showed up-"

Jesse was beginning to understand something she had been ignoring since Derek had told her last week he'd never been tortured by Fischer. She could almost feel a nice being driven into her gut and cutting out what she had lost all over again.

"Derek… when did you first see her?" She eyed him cautiously, stepping back slowly until there was a distance between them.

"After… after I was taken, taken as a POW and got this." He held up his arm, rolled up his sleeve and pointed to the barcode which branded him like human cattle. "It was '27… sometimes in the summer, I don't remember. You were gone, on a mission on _Jimmy Carter_."

She began to nod slowly, stroking her chin; her eyes began shiftily darting side to side.

"Derek, are you _sure_, _certain_, that is the first time you saw her? You never saw her with Connor or in any of his bases?

His eyes were half closed as the cryptic thoughts began swirling and accumulating in his mind like dark thunder clouds. His body shook and his hands began slowly balling into loose fists.

"Jesse," he stepped to her, forcing her to look at him. "What do you mean, 'first time.' What do you mean 'first time'?"

* * *

_Kyle… what am I supposed to do? My son is- I don't want to even think it, but I am- with a machine. A second one is here filling his head that machines and humans could work together. I don't understand, it honestly believes that we can ever live in peace with them? Them!?_ Sarah yelled at herself. Her internal debate raged as Alex turned onto Orange Avenue on Coronado Island. She saw him looking around, like he was admiring the houses. _What the hell is it doing? Things were so much more simple a year… eight years ago… or a year. Me and John. John and me. When I thought I could defend him_.

"We don't need your help," Sarah said suddenly. She realized after nearly an hour stuck in traffic she hadn't responded to Alex's supposed confession of confusion over terminators helping humans and not being 'all alike.' To her, they were. "You are, you know."

He looked at her, a look of deep thought, and then looked back on the road.

The car turned onto the wide Ocean Boulevard, flanked on one side by the wide beaches of Coronado and multi-million dollar mansions. Sarah could only stare and grind her teeth that a man who would doom the world could live in such luxury- in a few years people would be living in tunnels.

"The more you tell yourself that the more difficult you make this, Sarah."

The car stopped as a group of J-walking tourists crossed in the middle of the road, stopping half a dozen cars in front of the SUV.

It was Sarah's turn to ignore him.

"I know what you were told in 1984. I told you your son trusted me in the future. He didn't send back random people-"

"Exactly," she hissed, turning in her seat, "he didn't send back random _people_- he sent back _terminators_. Think of the name: terminator. What does that mean to you?" She hit her knee, frustrated.

"You want the literal meaning? TERMINATOR was an acronym for a treaded semi-autonomous miniature tank originally." He blew out and dismissed her cold shoulder attempt. "If you can think of a better name to call our race other than terminators or machines or metal…"

the car began moving forward slowly, now caught behind a pair of gawkers taking pictures of the houses.

"Yeah. _Killers_. _Murderers_." She put a deeper emphasis, hatred, on each word.

"Only a person can murder and kill," he retorted.

Sarah stared out at the strand of beach she could see over the rocks. There were a few daring people in the water- their bodies a glistening black from wet suits, but most of the beachgoers were bundled up due to the wind, and walking back and forth. In her passenger side mirror she could see the red roof and spires of the Hotel Del Coronado.

"Your kind destroys all of this. Everything we've built. But don't think I'm so blind to not see we did it to ourselves. Greed, selfishness… we want everything, to control everything," Sarah began to trail off as her voice grew distant. "We created you, AI, and you killed us." Like being punched by a terminator, she felt the life smashed out of her.

"That hasn't happened yet. You're giving up." He said.

He threw on the car blinker and pulled a left-hand U-turn and slid into a spot on the street. The SUV slid gracefully to a stop and Alex turned off the engine and waited.

"We're here at Doctor Carwin's residence." He pointed to a large house fifty yards down the street.

Sarah looked up and followed the finger. It was nice, large, and two neighbors to the left were gardening. She unbuckled her seat belt, checked her pistol, and shoved it into the shoulder strap. She pulled a second pocket gun from the glove compartment and looked at it like it was some despicable imitation of a firearm.

_This won't stop anything_, she told herself as she put it back into the glove compartment. She pressed herself into the door as Alex leaned back over the arm rest and retrieve the duffle bag they had been using to conceal their MP5K. She snatched it from Alex as he was bringing it back up.

He opened the door, and with a foot out and hovering above the asphalt, Alex felt a hand reach out with the force of a Terminator and yank back. Grabbing and pulling a terminator like that instantly set off combat subroutines and increased the system resources dedicated to combat analysis.

Alex 'relaxed' a microsecond later.

Sarah, eyes burning brighter than any nuclear fire, stared right at the deep cobalt-blue eyes of the machine.

"Never say I'm giving up. Or. I. Will. Kill. You." She released his jacket and shoved him. She didn't see his smile.

Alex locked his door and walked to the front of the car, waiting on Sarah. She was staring at him through the windshield, and her hand was hovering over her jacket where the shoulder holster was. He let Sarah have this one, broke off eye contact, and turned, giving her his concession.

He heard the door open and slam shut a few seconds later.

"What will we find?" She asked.

The two walked briskly across the street. Alex was scanning everyone he saw for any sign of endoskeleton or thermal anomalies consistent with an I-950.

"We shouldn't be here." He said, voicing his disapproval at this one last time. "We don't know what is in there."

"We need to know."

The wind kicked up and pushed her hair gently off her shoulders. The salty air so close to the ocean was invigorating for the mother. Seeing so many people, even in winter, enjoying the weather and the beach was why she fought. She didn't want these people to lose everything.

Even without recognition from them she did this for them.

"If they're dead?" He asked. It was rhetorical but he saw Sarah nod her head. "This is very dangerous."

Sarah didn't respond. An elderly couple with a small, annoying dog which barked too much walked past them. She almost laughed as Alex avoided the dog as it bit at his heels almost like he was afraid of it. They apologized profusely and Alex just nodded and smiled.

The mother glared at the fake understanding the machine conveyed to the couple. It was a ruthless machine who would kill someone like them, an inconvenience, if it could get away with it.

She looked back over her shoulder at the small dog still tugging at its leash as its frail, elderly owner pulled back, yelling at it to be quiet. _Such a simple creature knows the truth… real from fake… murderers, evil_, she mused.

"Sarah. One last time. I believe this is a bad idea." Alex advised against this by stopping in the middle of the side walk.

Sarah didn't stop. The sounds of shoe hitting concrete told her the machine was following. It would have to tie her up if it wanted to keep her from coming here.

"We owe it to them to find out," she said. "We're not meat and bone," she mouthed.

The dead face of Jessica Peck, staring lifelessly up into the sky of the Angeles National Forrest after the Vick terminator had murdered her rolled through her thoughts.

The unfriendly duo turned into the front yard of the Carwin residence. The lawns was manicured and well-kept, the pathway to the front door was free of cracks or weeds, and the home was impressive.

There was nothing unusual. It was just like any other home in America, on Coronado Island giving the impression of a normalcy. A couple kids laughing, a family walking on the sidewalk, birds chirping… it was suburbia.

To Sarah's surprise Alex had somehow maneuvered himself so he was in front of her. She watched as his head moved subtle left, right, up and down, most likely scanning for something. Sarah reached out, but before she could ring the doorbell, Alex did.

She groaned annoyance at him, it.

He ringed it again after fifteen seconds.

"No one is here." Alex said.

Sarah's eyes looked cautious and distrustful when her ears picked up the subtle hints that the machine seemed relieved. She could see it stand, almost relaxed.

He tensed, grabbed Sarah, and dropped, covering her with his hyperalloy body as they crouched. The door exploded outward. Alex tossed Sarah out of the way, into the yard.

She landed with a thud on her back.

"Run, now!" He yelled.

Two men launched themselves at Alex. Sarah pulled out her pistol, still laying on her back in the cool, damp grass and flicked off the safety and began firing. _Ping-ping-ping_. The bullets were completely useless.

The three machines were grappling when one twisted its head, flashed crimson red eyes, and broke off. It took a step towards her when Alex- Sarah was unsure how- freed himself from the machine grappling with him and swung the Skynet terminator by the ankles and like a baseball bat and hit the side of the terminator approaching Sarah.

The terminator he hit flew into the air, its limbs flailing out, and smashed into a parked car. Its alarm and horn began blaring an annoying whine. Sarah took aim again and fired two bullets at the machine and then a third, fourth, and fifth. Its arm was stuck, molded somehow into the deformed car.

"That won't hold it," she told herself. It didn't. It ripped its arm from the car in a terrifying screech of metal grinding on metal and skin being torn and was already coming back for her.

Alex pounded the terminator he had swung like a bat into the walkway, smashing its head once with a punch and then a second time. He flipped it over on its back and began bending it backwards. The metal was groaning under the stress as it was being bent back past its range of motion.

The other Skynet terminator, free from the car diverted its attention from her to its fellow Skynet machine and rushed to its aid. The T-889 lashed out with a punch.

The Tech Com TK-900 terminator turned and with a left block, stopped a swing from the terminator now focused on him. Some strange bladed weapon, like a spike, shot out from the terminator's forearm, under its palm on its free hand. Its tip sizzled and cracked with electricity.

The air around them already began to smell of burned ozone as it thrust once and missed trying to jab it into Alex.

The liquid metal and refinements to the endoskeleton made the Tech Com terminator nearly immune to electricity-induced shut downs, but Alex knew jabbing whatever that spiked weapon was directly into his endoskeleton, beneath his armor, near his power core or one of the main data or power conducting conduits would shut him down temporarily.

He pushed with a foot on the terminator whose back he was bending, the electrified spike missing his chest and ripping through his jacket. With a free hand he brought an elbow down and as metal contacted metal something gave. The Skynet terminator recoiled and Alex threw a jab into its face with his right and with his left, grabbed the spiked forearm and rammed it into the back of the terminator on the ground, slightly lateral to midline, right where the fourth thoracic vertebra would be on a human.

The Skynet terminator convulsed and began to spasm, but its movements were uncontrolled by any neural net processor, induced only by the electricity running into its main data and movement conduits.

The other terminator, realizing its weapon was being used against its fellow Skynet agent, halted the electrical feed. It tried to lift its hands from its pinned position on the disabled machine, but the superior strength of the TK-900 kept its hand useless.

Alex wrapped his arm around the terminator's and stood up and heard the metal joint beginning to pop. He grabbed the hands of the terminator and spun its body through the front wall of the house next to the door, demolishing the entire door frame and launching bricks, mortar, and wood splinters throughout the yard.

He scanned for Sarah, but she wasn't in the yard. He heard the screech of tires and a car stop in front. The men wielded automatic rifles but a second car plowed into theirs, sending them diving for cover over cars and into the street. Alex could hear them moaning from their injuries.

The second car was the SUV, now with Sarah at the wheel.

Alex could see other vehicles from down Ocean Boulevard, on both sides, racing towards them.

He threw the terminator still in his grasp completely out of the yard and sailed it into the neighbors house. It came crashing through the roof. The screams of the home's dwellers only added to the panicked screams and cries of the people outside in their yards witnessing the destructive fight.

The machine reached down and dug his fingers under the joints and small servos of the T-889's neck which lay motionless on the ground. He had a few more seconds…

He twisted and turned. The neck was reinforced. Sarah was honking the horn. Police sirens were in the distance and two other cars were racing towards them. He stomped down on the neck and heard metal twisting and breaking. Alex saw a new hand grip emerge from the deformed metal on the terminator's neck. With one foot on the neck and both hands pulling he managed to yank off the terminator's head. Sparks flew from severed power conduits and synthetic skin burned as the sparks blackened it.

He leapt towards the SUV, jumped into the passenger seat and tossed the head in the rear of the car.

"Jesus Christ, Alex!" Sarah cursed after she saw the head. She threw the SUV in reverse as the car in front of her was clearly not about to stop. "Is that-"

"Yes, Sarah. Skynet... drive!"

* * *

AN: Thanks to Visi0nary for his continued input and reading of chapters I send him.

--Derek as a battalion commander- I know Derek jumped back in 2027 and that'll be explained later on how a Derek would be in 2031. There are some aspects of the time line I'll go into more detail in later chapters on different theories that future John from Alex's time line is trying to test out. With each major change in the time line, John learns a little bit more (and so does Skynet).

--The liquid metal vest- I know that might be a bit of a 'wtf' sort of moment- it's meant to show the reliance both sides have on the other. John from Alex's future needed the machines and the machines needed him and so gave him something very, very rare and precious.

--Major Durand might appear again. His main purpose is to show the world wide nature of the war.

--Colonel Srecko's dislike of machines is genuine but he recognizes that humans need them to win. Bob Brown is a character from _The Unit_. He and a younger Srecko may appear in the next story.

--There will be another scene set in the future in a few chapters again.

--Next chapter will have the car chase, and the chapter after that will have John, Cameron, and Alex confronting an old enemy from Alex's past.

--Let me apologize again for the long delay in this chapter. I had a load of work and was concentrating on By Courage and Blood.

Please review (always great to read reviews- good or with constructive criticism and are definite motivators writing these long chapters) and let me know what you think. I look forward to reading any review and any particular thing people like/dislike. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the next one won't take a month. The next one will probably be posted within two weeks.


	13. Chapter 13

Please enjoy. Read and (please don't forget to) review (that's an important part, too)! Thank you. Next update is already being worked on.

* * *

Combat protocols. Tactical simulations. Bullet vectors. Angle of attack. Probabilities.

Thousands of processes ran through Alex's neural net as his powerful CPU began analyzing and calculating. A reverie of a _ping-ping_ and then a _THUD, _a bullet smashing into his right shoulder forced it back and the machine made to lift his arm, smash the passenger-side window and, with small sub-machine gun in hand, fire back.

Every shot hit. Every shot spat at the Skynet machines from the compact firearm was completely wasted, useless. Nine millimeter bullets could never penetrate.

The SUV pitched left then swerved right as Sarah overcompensated, hitting parked cars on either side of the street. Screams of bystanders accompanied the ear-piercing screech of metal tearing on metal and parts of cars- glass and mirros began littering the street.

_Two cars_, _both with Terminators… why isn't Sarah dead?_ Alex thought. Something had changed.

In the time it took for the SUV to move a fraction of an inch Alex had replayed his melee with the two Terminators.

_Why didn't they kill us?_ His tactical software demanded to know.

The machine captain pushed it away as he reloaded the magazine of the compact MP5K and, on hearing the satisfying click, leaned his arm out the window and fired at the vehicle in front.

Two cars, one a silver H3, one a blue Dodge Ram 350, closed on their target and were coming in for terminal impact.

There was so much confusion, the cars were so close, she never could have acted before it was too late. But somehow, she did act, and perhaps saved them both. As if a machine herself or if she were being watched over Sarah inexplicitly whipped the wheel around and slammed on the brakes. The rear of the vehicle flew right, the front left. The Ram clipped the left rear bumper while the H3 missed completely, barreling into a parked car.

The parked car was pushed off the street onto the sidewalk. Alex, but not Sarah, saw the woman on the sidewalk smashed and pinned between the crushed vehicle and an almost picturesque vine covered white stucco wall.

Of course the attacking Terminators were only momentarily inconvenienced by Sarah's impressive driving and were again closing the distance.

"Let me out. I will stop them!" Alex yelled, his eyes flashing blue as combat routines took over. There were four terminators; one driver and one passanger in each vehicle. Even as a TK-900, as experienced as he was, the chances of survival against four terminators plus the fifth he'd thrown through the house were… low. "Your survival-"

"God damnit shut the hell up and keep firing!" She hissed back and dropped her head and shoulder and took cover as bullets smashed and shattered into the rear of the car. "Shit!" The warrior yelled as a bullet flew between the two and pierced the front windshield.

Alex then punched out the window, showering the roadway with glass, as he leaned out and twisted at the waist. He used his right hand to steady himself and single handed in the left, fired the MP7 until all its bullets had been spat out at the two vehicles. His machine strength and reflexes compensated for Sarah's driving, the bouncing of the car and the swerving. He had a tight pattern on the H3's passenger-side door.

Unfortunately, he'd not been able to compensate for the sudden swerving of a passing vehicle; his last three shots impacted the side of the driver's head with predictable consequences. Alex watched in relative slow motion as the driver's head was rocketed into the door window, gushing blood, and seemingly instantly went limp and fell onto the steering wheel. The horn began blaring loudly as if to call out to the island of the man's death.

The out-of-control car then swerved towards the Tahoe, missing it by inches, and slammed into a parked car at the intersection of Ocean and Alameda.

The driver's dead head resting on the horn added to the chorus of weaponry from Alex and the shouts from bystanders, upsetting the quiet afternoon beach resort.

"Turn right!" Alex yelled as he reached down for another clip. Sarah swerved onto Olive Avenue and kept the SUV from rolling with expert precision. "Do we have anything else?" He asked, now calm, despite the chaos that surrounded him.

Alex contacted Cameron over the wireless with a quick burst of their current situation. Within a microsecond the two had determined a battle plan. She was with John on Cottonwood Avenue in the Santee area, over eighteen miles away. Traffic was thick in the industrial and office park and there was a hefty police presence on the highway due to an accident half an hour ago. As soon as she and John could get out of the gridlock, they'd come to assist.

"In the back… shotgun and a rifle," Sarah yelled, jamming her thumb back. "Where's the head?" she demanded to know.

Alex nodded and lowered the seat then climbed back and ignored her question. With knees on the back row of seats he bent down over the seatback and grabbed two very long duffel bags. Unzipping the first was a SPAS-12, already loaded and with a bandoleer of ammunition along with three handguns - Beretta 96's. He tore open the second bag to find an AK-103 with stock folded and a GP-30 40mm grenade launcher attached.

He thought it would have been prudent for Sarah to have informed him earlier of some of the firearms she had brought along. Rifle grenades would be very useful and if they hit the right spot, could put a Terminator out of commission.

There were four 40mm grenades as well as five M67 grenades, two cans of thermite and four flares.

His combat subroutines automatically guided his hands to select the AK-103. As he reached down he felt his internal micro-gyros stabilize him as Sarah weaved and swerved from the right hand side of the road into oncoming traffic in the left. She whipped the car so hard to avoid stopped cars that Alex was thrown off balance and his head smacked into the window, cracking it.

Alex grabbed the AK-103 and inserted a grenade. The H3 was behind them, but the Ram 350 had disappeared. He picked out his targets; one Terminator driver, one Terminator passenger/gunner, and the engine block.

The T-889 series, temporal variants, were hardened, resilient, and ideally Alex would have preferred an anti-material rifle (or plasma rifle) to engage them. He chose to fire on the engine block instead of the two terminators.

"Watch out Sarah for the truck! They might be trying to cut us off!" He warned, raising his voice above the sounds of battle, ricocheting bullets, and cracking automobile glass.

Maps of the city blocks flashed through his neural net but Sarah was already ahead of him. She knew the way out, but there were half a dozen side streets and alleys between the houses a Terminator could maneuver from and cut them off.

Sarah and Alex were at Olive and G Avenue, with the H3 just passing 10th Street, 173 meters behind. Alex didn't bother to knock out any glass, and from his backwards perch on the back seats of the Tahoe, selected single-shot and fired ten rounds in quick succession at the H3. He scanned and zoomed in. Sarah had weaved in and out of dozens of cars which were now between him and the target.

He couldn't tell how many times he'd hit the target. Alex steadied for an engine-block shot but a panicking motorist swerve in front of him as Alex began pulling back on the trigger. He jerked up in time and the bullet flew over the car and missed.

Other cars were swarming, swerving, and making the shot impossible.

"Sarah, they might cut us off on Orange! Just watch out for the-"

"Damnit, metal, just shut up and shoot them!" She snarled facing forward, spittle bathing the steering wheel, and keeping her eyes on the road.

He ignored her and ceased his attempts to warn her. She was driving, he was shooting. _No need for literal back seat driving_, he thought.

Alex rammed his metal knee into the cushion and user his right leg on the floor to push himself into the passenger side door to steady himself from Sarah's swerving. The muzzle flashed half a dozen times as bullets dashed through the small gap between cars and hit the pursuing Hummer. At the last moment Sarah spun the wheel in a fruitless attempt to avoid a collision with a passing SUV, knocking off the Resistance-built machine's aim.

A single bullet plowed into the head of the other SUVs driver, killing him instantly and causing his vehicle to swerve sharply toward the parked cars along the side of the street. The resultant collision sent the SUV catapulting through the air, momentum and gravity flipping it over and over.

With no other obstacles in his line of sight, Alex emptied his weapon's few remaining bullets into the engine block of the H3, causing its terminator driver to swerve violently as the airborne SUV came crashing down roof-first along the side of the road – the consequences bloody and deathly apparent.

A sedan had hit their breaks to avoid the barely controlled Hummer, which forced a van behind them to jostle and swerve, flipping over onto its side. Cars behind them piled up, slamming front-to-end.

Alex's audio receptors could pick up the faint sounds of screams, cries of pain and death through the raging Terminator-Terminator gun fight.

"Alex!" Sarah shouted. She was daring to break her eye contact on the road with fleeting glances into the mirrors. "What the hell is!-"

"Left then immediately right!" He yelled back

Sarah jerked the car, the butt of the Tahoe coming up to where the front was, then stepped back onto the gas, swung the wheel around, and they cruised down a side street then turned immediately right onto 7th Avenue.

A heat wave reached them, and the light of orange, red, and yellow fire gleamed in the eyes of Sarah and Alex before the human brain and neural net processor even registered the explosion.

The cloud of pressure launched the Tahoe butt up, pushed Sarah into the steering wheel, and sent Alex falling back into the front seat. One handed he pushed up while firing the AK.

"What the hell!?" Sarah yelled, daring a series of quick, stuttered glances over her shoulder. She could smell acrid smoke and something burning. It was noxious, like burning rubber,a nd she fought back an urge to vomit. "Are we on fire!?" She half asked, half screamed.

"They have rifle grenades," Alex said. "We may be on fire," was the nonchalant addition. The grenades were the Skynet Terminator's way of compensating for the renewed distance between them as a result of the devastating hits to engine only moments earlier.

They would also cause more bloodshed.

General Connor had warned about killing innocents, but had been clear that even before Judgment Day sacrifices were necessary. Alex would try to save as many of the humans as he could, but if he was forced, he would sacrifice those unfortunate innocents caught on the Coronado roads they were fighting on for Connor, humanity, and freedom or his kind.

His left finger went from the hand guard down to the attached GP-30's trigger. Waiting for the right instant, a microsecond before Sarah turned onto Orange Avenue he fired. Grabbing the door frame, its weak metal indenting under the extreme pressure of his fingers, he steadied himself. His neural net gave him the signal and as if it were an instinct, fired the grenade.

The 40 mm grenade shot out and arced with a low hissed wail but the H3 Terminator driver saw Alex preparing to fire, timed his movements perfectly, and swerved the car just enough that the explosive missed. An orange and red fireball shot into the sky, followed by thick black smoke from a fuel and oil fire- the grenade had hit a parked car. By now hundreds of car alarms were blazing along the path of destruction the three vehicles had sowed through the resort community.

Behind them people were screaming and running as police cars tried to maneuver through the debris.

Sarah was on Orange Avenue, then turned onto 4th Street as a second explosion rocketed them to the side. A second grenade from the H3 had hit twenty feet ahead, sending two cars peeling out from the center of the explosion in a flying V, one car forward, one car backwards. The backward car clipped the Tahoe as it slid off a parked car behind where it too had been parked second before.

The forward car's gas tank then exploded, and sent a searing wave of heat and flame into the street, a wall the Tahoe tore through. The end tails of the flames clawed at Sarah's face, burning her.

Alex looked back and saw black scorches on Sarah's face, and red blisters starting to form on her hand, which she'd used to cover the side of her face.

"Can you still drive?" Alex shouted over the roar of explosions, gunshots, horns, and the sounds of a quiet resort community becoming a front in the temporal war.

The black and whites of the Coronado PD were in full view now- their blue lights spinning and red lights flashing a hundred meters back behind the heavily damaged H3 and trying to gain.

"I'll be fine, keep shooting at them, Alex!" She shouted through a set of clenched teeth and a second series of painful yells. She breathed in and out quickly to dull the pain and distract her mind.

_I've lived through worse… a lot worse_, was what Sarah kept telling herself over and over. The Terminators from 1984, 1997, and after their jump had done far more harm to her than a little burned flesh on her cheek and a few red blisters popping up on her hand.

The Terminators behind the duo turned their attention to the CPD and Sheriff cars. The one firing the rifle grenades turned back and fired on a police cruiser. The HE round hit the hood, right above the mid-section of the engine.

The cruiser buckled and flipped. The cruiser behind rammed into it and both exploded.

A lot of people would die here, today, now.

They're in front of us!" Sarah yelled back, coughing, as the Ram 350 suddenly appeared in front of them. She gripped the steering wheel, only to curse at the pain from her burned hand.

The Tahoe was now on Route 75 as 4th Street became the road to take traffic from Coronado across the massive, blue-sided San Diego Coronado Bay Bridge and into the city across the bay. Somehow the Ram had gotten in front and the H3 was closing.

Alex looked forward. If Sarah were a machine they could drive the car off the road once they were over water. They'd survive the impact even at the highest point on the bridge. Unfortunately Sarah wasn't a machine, so Alex determined the only way out of this was to destroy the vehicles, force them to stop chasing them, or outrun them.

Destroying the vehicles was the preferable choice. It would result in significant collateral damage but more were likely to die if the firefight went on much longer. They also needed to escape, before police helicopters arrived.

The brake lights of the Ram shot out a deep red at Sarah as it attempted to slow enough so it could box the Tahoe in, but not enough that Sarah could outmaneuver and drive past. Alex leaned back out and began firing the rest of the 7.62mm, AP rounds into the rear of the Ram. He aimed down to blow out a tired, but a burst of bullets from the H3 behind them dug into his shoulder, the force knocking off his aim. The last shot was fired, and a small spark showed the bullet had hit just inches to the right, on the Ram's bumper, from the left rear wheel.

The Ram was too close to hit with the GP30, so he turned back around, but a hail of bullets streaked down from his head across his chest and hit his arm. Warnings flashed through his neural net as a well placed shot sent the AK-103 flying from his grasp onto the road, bouncing behind, hitting the H3 behind and ricocheted over the bridge and tumbled end over end into the bay below.

Damage indicated significant epidermal destruction. The TK-900, meant for longevity and long-term autonomous operations, was equipped with hyperalloy-ceramic armor plating and the armor on his cranium, shoulder, and arm held against the armor piercing rounds the rear vehicle was firing.

"There are terminators in the rear vehicle - possibly the first- T-889's and most likely T-890's," Alex said, finally being able to perform a deeper, though ranged, scan. His tactical analysis software had alerted him there was a near certainty the four were Terminators. And he had zoomed in and saw blood on the man steering and the passenger with an M14. He moved to position himself in front of, or technically, behind Sarah so the H3 Terminator could not get a clear shot of her driving.

Alex grabbed two of the M67 grenades, pulled the pin and released the one in his right hand. He threw as hard as he could. He watched it glide through the air, at a near perfect descending angle until it hit the road and bounced and skidding towards the undercarriage of the H3. Expecting an explosion nothing happened at first, and at the very end of the fuse window, the grenade exploded. The first detonated fifteen feet in front of the H3.

Alex pulled the pin on the second then threw it. It landed right in front of the H3 and blew out both tires and torn into the engine, sending the hood bulging up. Thick black smoke and metal debris shot out from under the engine and chassis. Jet black oil smeared the road. The Terminator tried to keep control, but slammed into the median concrete divider, the butt end of the H3 continuing forward and launching off the ground, only to come crashing down to the road, loosening more destroyed parts and pieces to clutter the road.

Alex quickly grabbed another grenade, pulled the pin and threw with machine strength. The grenade soared through the air, almost in a perfect line with almost no drop until it hit the rear right side of the H3 and plinked off the side right below the window. With the slope of the Bay Bridge the grenade rolled oddly, like a football almost, and then exploded under the gas tank.

Smirking, Alex grabbed the shotgun and bandoleer and jumped into the front seat.

The Coronado PD cars which had been following were blocked off by the thick traffic jam hundreds of meters back from behind the burning H3.

"Did you get them?"

"Yes. But they'll be back," he said.

Sarah cursed. _They always come back._

"The explosion wasn't enough to destroy them. The fire may have burnt their infiltration sheaths but they will find a way to get away." He finished as he pushed off and leaned out the window.

Now bullets were reaching out from the Ram 350 towards the Tahoe.

Alex returned fire with a slug which hit the right rear tail light. With the speed Sarah was driving at the shattered plastic dusted Alex's face and scalp with tiny, sharp shards, further cutting into his face. A few pieces of red plastic even lodged into his cheek.

They were still speeding and weaving in and out of traffic, the Ram continually speeding up and slowing down in a desperate attempt to keep Sarah from getting in front.

Alex was hoping Sarah could get the Tahoe up along the blue Ram. He could then jump over and crash it into the bridge. He could fight two T-888's or T-890s hand-to-hand if he had to, but he didn't want to - not if he could stop them with enough firepower or explosives.

Over his wireless he received a message from Cameron.; she and John were on Market Street and 12th. There was little they could do. Both Cameron and Alex had already picked up the calls for all available police units to converge on the San Diego side of the Bay Bridge to intercept the vehicles that had caused so much death and destruction.

Cameron would attempt to trick then and call them off, but it was unlikely. She had been able to confused the dispatchers long enough that the SWAT trucks were delayed. The only police at the other end were uniformed officers with pistols, shotguns, and the occasional assault rifle. Sarah and Alex _could_ make it through, but Sarah's chances of survival were low.

There was also a police helicopter in bound and would arrive on scene in minutes. If that arrived there was no escape; Alex would have to shoot it down to evade capture.

Alex focused his targeting systems onto the Ram and fired two more slugs in quick succession as bullets began ripping into the hood of the Tahoe. Both he and Sarah felt the kick of the engine as something vital was hit. The Tahoe then nicked a sedan, sending it swerving into the concrete barrier on the side, sparks showering the roads as Alex's arm, up to his mid bicep was caught between the Tahoe and concrete, ripping off the skin.

Luckily he still hung onto the shotgun with his left hand.

Once Sarah regained control she hit the side of another SUV, the other driver promptly applying the brakes but being hit by that sedan Sarah had nicked.

_How the hell do these people just appear!_ she yelled to herself, a surprised annoyance overcoming her at the sheer number of cars still driving. She guessed the ones in front, with the slope of the bridge, didn't see the big explosions and hear the roar of two cars in a life-or-death shootout gunning up behind them.

"There is a police helicopter inbound!" Alex shouted as he grabbed the shotgun and fired again and again until he was out of ammunition. He had an idea.

He slapped in one of the last magazine for the MP7 and handed it to Sarah.

Alex reached up and punched a larger hole into the windshield and told Sarah to start shooting.

"Distract them!" he commanded when she shot him a questioning glare on why he was switching to such a relatively ineffective weapon.

She grimaced as he grabbed her hand and slammed the MP7 in. She bit her lip so hard at the pain she could taste blood, as well as dirt, and maybe a little glass, which had somehow found its way in. Spitting she aimed through a foot-wide hole in the front windshield while simultaneously driving as best she could.

Half her shots went wide, with one shattering the Ram's driver's side mirror, a few digging into the door, and a handful going into the rear window, which was already shot up and shattered. She saw one bullet strike the driver in the back of the head.

She sat up and threw the MP7 down, out of ammo, and leaned forward, anticipating the driver would slump over and die.

"Machine!" She yelled as a curse as her expectations were shot, quite literally.

She covered her eyes and swerved again as a new hail of bullets came at her. Ducking to avoid the fire, she thanked God when she heard a whir shoot by her ear and the Tahoe's headrest exploded out, dusting the cabin with white stuffing and padding.

Sarah heard half a dozen _plinks_ as the bullets struck Alex in the back.

"Sarah, pull up until you're even with their bed!" he yelled.

She complied, doing it automatically and flooring the gas pedal. The Tahoe coughed, sputtered, and seemed to stall, but then shot forward as her foot was pressing the metal pedal literally to the floor. Were she able to apply any more pressure she'd certainly gouge a hole through the cabin floor.

Alex felt the engine gun with enough force to push a terminator, weighing twice as much as a large human male, right into the back seat. With extreme speed and agility he compensated and judged the distance using his motion sensor package while his back was still to the Ram. He pulled the pins of one of the remaining M67 grenades and with a seemingly casual back-handed toss, his back still to the front of the car, threw the grenade out of the front passenger window with force to correct for the movement of the Tahoe and Ram. The grenade landed directly in the truck's bed.

Sarah saw this, jaw hanging slightly open at the precision, and then stepped on the breaks. Tires screeched and rubber was burned, and a long line of black skids marks were only one more sign of the battle to be permanently imprinted onto the bridge.

The grenade ripped apart the back of the truck, compressing it first into the asphalt of the bridge then sending it rolling side-over-side toward the barrier which divided the eastbound and westbound lanes. It struck the barrier quickly, sending the speeding wreck back toward the opposite side of the bridge, the grinding of metal against concrete sending sparks flying in its wake. Whether by an amazing coincidence or by contact with a road imperfection the final rotation of the wreck took it up and over the barrier and crashing to the waters below.

Sarah sped the car up for a brief three seconds to get distance between herself and the spot the car flipped over the side.

"Are you alright?" Sarah asked, bringing the car to a halt as she saw blue flashing lights on both sides of the highway. "Police!" She shouted as she slowed down, hesitating in her actions and mind. There was surrender or try and ram her way through.

Sarah could not surrender.

"Stop the car, I have an idea," he said.

They were still steadily moving forward to a point where the SUV was now over land, between Bay Front Road and the San Diego Bay and over the warehouses for the shipyards. Sarah kept the car moving forward slowly, unsure whether to comply with the machine's request or try and barrel through the clogged traffic up ahead and police barricades being erected.

Annoyed at being ignored the machine barked, "Damnit, just listen and stop the car!"

She slowed down to barely a crawl and Alex jumped out and opened the back door, walking with the car and grabbing a duffel bag and the terminator head which had somehow rolled next to the rear right passenger door.

The police barricades were a little over a third of a mile away and Sarah could just barely make out the blue uniforms and swirling red and blue lights from atop a black and white SDPD SWAT van.

That site flashed some horrible memories before her until she heard Alex bang on the side of the SUV, snapping her back.

"What are you doing?" She asked, keeping her eyes on the road before chancing one look to her right. The machine was looking back over his shoulder towards the edge of the bridge.

Distrust and anger turned to a wave of apprehension as she slowly realized what the machine was planning.

"Get out." He demanded. "We're over land. There's only one way to escape."

Sarah complied and finally stopped the car, but her door wouldn't open. Alex grabbed the duffel with the thermite and grenade and ran over to Sarah's side, pulling the stuck door off the hinges and tossed it down the road in front of the SUV.

He helped Sarah out and steadying her, then opened the two cans of thermite and threw them into the Tahoe. He ripped off the vehicle's license plate and placed the remaining 40mm grenade in the front and passenger seat. Striking a flare he turned to Sarah and told her, sternly, to run back up the bridge, towards Coronado. She didn't protest.

He ignited the flare and ran back as the Tahoe began to burn. Then he tossed his last grenade in.

Sarah was nearly seventy feet away when he did so. Miraculously she was uninjured except for her hand. The Tahoe exploded as the thermite, the 40mm grenades, the M67, and the remaining cash cooked off. An orange fireball shot a hundred feet into the sky followed quickly by billowing black smoke.

Alex then reached Sarah in a blink of the eye and guided her to the side. He had the duffel and his rifle still with him.

"Now what? There are two dozen police cars down at the end of the bridge!" She pointed and shouted, furiously wagging her finger. She turned back to Alex and her eyes darted back over the bridge, back down, and even into the sky like some great creature would swoop down and rescue them. "That's going to get their attention."

Alex nodded. "We're going over," he said, nodding at the side. "The smoke will distract them."

Sarah followed the nod, looked back at him, then looked back over and stepped back.

"What! No! I'll die."

"You'll go to prison if we stay here unless you want me to shoot our way out." He motioned with his chin and propped the rifle into his left hand. "I will survive. You will most likely not survive. You make the decision, Sarah." He challenged.

"Fine!" she snarled, exhausted and completely defeated from offering any resistance to Alex jumping off a bridge (!) to save her.

He scooped her up and held her out so her back wouldn't hit his knees when they fell. He took a machine version of a breath and calculated the angle he needed to impact to survive. He was eighty-five feet point three two from the hard gravel, concrete, and asphalt below.

He sidestepped on the bridge to position himself over the dirt rather than the asphalt.

He could survive a fall from this height without damage, but with Sarah and the limited mobility, his leg joints could suffer damage if he landed on the grayed and cracked road below.

Sarah looked over and saw police cruisers beginning to approach, but the thick smoke of the Tahoe was covering their escape fairly well. She wanted to close her eyes but kept the open.

Alex jumped with Sarah digging her fingers into his back, holding on for life in his outstretched arms. In what seemed like an eternity for Alex, his extraordinarily fast machine reflexes and processing times slowing his perception down a hundred times over, he finally landed. For Sarah, it seemed also like an eternity as she felt the wind from the fall rush around her face, burn into her scorched hand, and push up her flowing black hair into her face and Alex's.

Alex landed with a thud on his toes, then the soles of his feet as his knees bent to compensate for his heavy top weight coming down to the hip joints, then knee joints, then ankle joints.

He then slowly knelt to release Sarah.

She scrambled from his hold, pushing off from him and quickly adjusted; dusting off her jacket trying to make it look like the experience had been nothing.

He was checking to make sure no one had seen them. There was a group with their backs turned, walking away from them. They were very lucky to have not been spotted.

Alex was acting like nothing had happened while Sarah was trying to control her breathing, almost slipping into hyperventilation.

"Never…again…do…that… We have to get out of here," she said. She tugged down at the dirtied, sort of burned pants suit jacket and for a moment considered just taking it off and tossing it. "What about the head?" She asked.

The machine took it out, his hands working over its creases and skin folds. Without a care he grabbed the hanging skin from around the neck and ripped it off.

Sarah almost felt like vomiting.

"_Sick_…" she whispered as Alex just stuffed the skin back into the bag.

She watched him as he turned the skull around in his hands, his eyes narrowed and focus (she swore almost glowing), and finally he flipped it up, top of the skull in his hand and making a sort of knife-like motion with his right index and middle fingers, rammed the two fingers into neck.

"What are you doing? We need to get out of here."

"Let's go then." He was walking and jabbing his fingers into the skull repeatedly, pulling out pieces of metal.

"What are you doing?" She stopped and reached down, snatching a metal neck rod Alex had let fall. "We _burn_ them."

They ducked under an overhang and into an old dilapidated building away from prying eyes.

The machine, much to Sarah's annoyance, had continued to ignore her and dig into the skull, ripping out little pieces and letting them fall to his feet.

Sarah saw him like a vulture, picking and pecking at the neck with his fingers.

She lashed out to grab the skull, take it from the insolent machine, and drive her point home that all pieces must be _burned_. To demand what the hell the _machine_ was doing.

Her hand didn't get close to the skull. It was stopped by the machine gripping her wrist. He'd moved so quickly Sarah's body had to readjust to its hand being in the wrong spot then where it should have been.

"Let me go!" She yanked back. He didn't release her arm, which he had gripped around the wrist. Almost unconsciously her other hand was curling into a fist and if her eyes could kill, they would have.

"Sarah. Please calm down. Burning pieces from this neck makes no difference. Skynet is here." He looked back down at the skull. "I know that humans are prone to forgetting, but I also know you would not have forgotten our little… adventure yesterday."

She wanted to kill the machine, bathe him, it, in thermite for the condescending tone.

Then he looked at her like he could read her mind and released her.

"I don't care what you do." She hunched down and took the pieces and balling them in her fist, small wires, electronics, and rods pushing out between her fingers, snarled, and shoved her clenched fist in front of his face, waving it around menacingly. "We _burn_ them."

For Sarah to pretend to claim she was still 'just fuming' over what the machine had dared to do would have been a lie, she told herself. She picked up the tiny electronics Alex had dug out of the Terminator's skull until a disgusting smile- she thought any terminator smiling was a sick mimicry of human emotion- had creased his lips. She heard a little _crunch_ and then declared he was ready to go.

He said it was a transmitter buried deep within the skull.

* * *

They'd found the car they'd spotted earlier. It was parked across the street and down from a decrepit looking bar. A place, Sarah thought, that would probably be a bit too run down and decrepit for her.

Even Alex smashing the window with just a flick of his wrist and a casual backhand hadn't gotten attention. Not that there were many people who came down there unless they had to.

Sarah had, without argument, let Alex drive and hot-wire the old silver-brown and rusting Caddy she'd picked out. She'd bit down on her bleeding lip, flinching, but still biting, on Alex's second attempt to hot-wire the car. The last thing she wanted was for her pick of cars to hijack to be a lemon.

Just then the smell of the car hit her. It reeked of booze and marijuana. Peeking in the back seat she found dozens of buds, needles and empty bottles. She snorted, slightly, at the thought of how the car's owner lived.

_Drunk, high… maybe normal people… it'd be nice to get drunk sometime, not high, hell no, but drunk_, the mother and protector thought. _When was the last time I was drunk?_ She looked up at the ceiling as she gently rested her burnt hand on her knee. She could feel the little bits and pieces of the skull in her pocket. _I think it was… God, I don't remember_. A Terminator could smash through the door. She couldn't take the risk.

The little sounds of wires being tapped together brought her back from her little day dream of what the owner of this car could be like.

Literally half a second before she was going to comment, her mouth open and ready to chastise the machine for failing to jump start the car Alex got the old vehicle working on his third attempt and looked up and smiled as he put the car into drive. Switching the gear shift stick from 'P' to 'D' elicited a series of grinds and groans from the ill-maintained vehicle, but after a second series of ear piercing wails and metallic grinds, the car shifted into gear and began to putter as Alex stepped on the accelerator. He pulled out slowly, minding the traffic laws and watching for the oncoming cars, and then stepped down on the gas enough to shoot the two into traffic, but not enough to screech the tires or attract attention.

Sarah looked back at Alex and realized he was sitting on the broken glass from the window.

Sarah swore to everything around her she would _not_ help the terminator fish glass out of its ass. At _best_ she'd hand it a hand mirror and a pair of tweezers. _At best_.

"I contacted Cameron. She's going to meet us on Harrison Avenue with John. There's some abandoned buildings in a lot off the street. We'll ditch the car like a bad habit at the intersection with Bay Marina then walk up," Alex said dully, despite his choice of colloquialisms.

Sarah let out a deep, exacerbated sigh at everything that had happened in the last few minutes, then winced and cradled her hand. With a drop of her shoulders she turned to Alex.

"You've sustained a superficial partial thickness burn, second degree, Sarah," Alex informed her. Sarah grunted.

"This?" She held up her hand, narrowing her eyes. "I'm not too concerned about this right now." She waved her hand at him before letting it fall back to her lap.

"Yes."

"Whatever," she sneered, turning in her seat to stare out the side window and cradle her hand. She felt her body shaking as the adrenaline rush began to dissipate. Her breathing was returning to normally and she was consciously telling herself to take slow, deep breaths. "How are you going to walk to this building with your arm and face all torn up?"

"I was going to put my jacket over my arm, but we can drive if we have to."

"Let's do that. Unless you have some mask to cover your face up, we need to drive there and not attract any attention," she said. It sounded like a suggestion, but it was definitely a command. "Did you contact Derek?"

"His phone was off. We should have a little time before the police begin searching."

Sarah rolled her eyes at the machine. She continued to cradle her burnt hand, wrapping it in rags she tore from her own clothes, now bloodied, burnt, and filled with ash and dirt. The strips helped a little, but she'd need treatment soon. She knew the dangers of burns to hands and crease lines, especially the hands.

It could have been worse, she kept repeating in her mind. She was lucky. She had been lucky to have-

"How did they just find us like that? Did you lead them there?" She snidely, rudely shot at the machine. She regretted the words, but she couldn't finish her previous thought. Yelling at the machine was not as bad as admitting that she had been on the precipice of… she didn't want to even think about it.

"What… Sarah?" Alex asked, confused.

She shot up her hand. "Never mind. Forget I said anything," she offered, the closest she'd come to an apology. "What are you doing with the skull?"

"The neural net processor may be viable… we may be able to link directly into the chip, overwhelm its defenses, and… interrogate whatever AI is currently on this chip."

"Interrogate the AI?"

"I told you, Skynet is very different. Its learned. Its soldiers have defenses to prevent any sort of core personality re-programming. The core personality matrices and neural net key logarithms are too complex to reprogram in a conventional sense… with a keyboard."

"So what do you have to do?" She felt a need to add something. "We need to end _this_, stop Judgment Day."

She didn't press the issue when Alex didn't respond. Instead, sitting quietly and people watching, the two drove in silence. Somehow they were hitting all the red lights between South Evan's Street and Harrison Avenue.

It was a cold reminder of this entire operation in San Diego; stonewalled and blocked at every twist.

Sarah was praying desperately to just fighting _lone_ terminators. She studied her burned hand. The pain wasn't as intense as it was.

_But now we fight groups, _groups_ of Terminators! Fuck, just let's go back to fighting one at a time,_ Sarah thought. The fierce vibrations from the clunky old stopped which put a halt on her internal monologue and concerns.

They'd drive around to the rear entrance of an old, dilapidated, and long abandoned garage. A large sigh with orange letters, '_City Property- Condemned' _ on a black background was nailed lazily to the wooden doors. Alex effortlessly broke the lock and parked the car inside.

"Where did you throw the duffel?" Sarah asked, leaning on the hood of the car as Alex went about the insides making sure they hadn't left anything. "Never mind." She saw it was placed in an ill-lit corner.

Walking over she picked it up and took out the skull. It's dull gunmetal gray endoskeleton was still sticky, plastered with red blots of whatever substance they used for blood. She felt like throwing this into the deepest hole she could find.

This was what had taken everything from her; this was what would destroy the world. In the window she could see the reflection of the machine behind her, meticulously searching the car. Under that skin was the same metal face. Take off their skins and they all looked the same. There was no difference.

The burning red optical sensors were dimmed to a dull red, almost maroon tint. On instinct her eyes shot up and searched the garage for anything that could burn this abomination, this synthetic insult to humanity.

A car pulled up outside and a pair of doors opened. One slammed shut while the other was gently closed.

"Mom?" She heard.

"In here." She kept her eyes on the skull.

John and Cameron came around the corner and John was next to his mother within an eye blink. He was splitting his attention between the skull in her hands and trying to examine her burns.

"Jesus, mom, what happened?"

"Car chase. We got rid of them… come on John, we need to get out of here." Sarah said. She could tell by his hesitation he wanted more answers. But they needed to get back to the condo and re-evaluate.

"Alright… I'll call Derek, he'll meet us back at the condo… and we've got some information," John said proudly.

* * *

"Where the hell were you?" were the five words which met Derek Reese as he strolled into the condo. "Why the hell was your phone off, Reese?" Sarah demanded.

Derek stopped at the door and calmly tossed his keys onto the table and threw his olive green military jacket over a chair.

"I was out. Running recon." He kept looking at the table as he took his pistol out from a back holster and laid it down on the table, rubbing his lower back. "That's what you told me to do." He looked at her, ready for the challenge.

"We could have used you."

"Your new metal friend here," he waved over towards the wall, not sure where the spec ops terminator was, "can more than take care of it." He looked her down and up from toe to head. "Looks like he took care-"

"One more word, Derek," she threatened. _What the hell is up with him?_ She demanded to know. _He vanished for days on end in LA, comes back, and is in some f'ing pissy mood._

He wasn't much paying attention because he finally saw the metal skull.

"What the hell is that thing doing here?" He jabbed his finger out and was ready to take it outside and burn it in the street if he must. "Sarah, you burn those. What the hell is it doing here… out in the God damned open?" he hissed, eyes raging.

"Yeah, and who the hell is going to come in and see it?"

"And what if," he took a step closer, "that damn thing is transmitting or something! Dammit, did you at least take the chip out."

"We didn't have the tools." Someone shouted from the other room.

Derek ignored Alex for a minute and he and Sarah took it upon themselves to battle this out with a war of wills. Staring. It was something both were experts in.

"You two need to calm down," John snapped as he entered the room, Cameron behind him and then Alex behind her.

"Nice little collection of metal you have going for you, John," Derek sneered at the young general as he kept his body tensed and eyes locked on the woman in front of him. He could feel the little pumps of adrenaline and the little bit of heat on his skin as vessels dilated and blood rushed out to his muscles.

John took a step until he was in front of his mother and uncle. He was split evenly between them, not taking either side; he couldn't. Dammit_ I need them both, they need to stop this_, he yelled to himself.

His head on a swivel he kept talking and turning back to one and then the other with every other word. He made it very clear this _bullshit_ had to stop.

He didn't care who broke off first and somehow both broke their stares and angry glares simultaneously, surprising John and even the machines.

Derek took a delicate step back and then threw himself on the end of the U shaped sofa. He didn't care if he looked like a Neanderthal by going over the back and getting his dusty shoes all over the leather.

Derek took a little solace in seeing the look John gave his new machine fighter. He could tell his nephew was pissed that yet again in the care of the machine, she had been inches from death. And Derek, judging by the look of her hand and some of the bandages on her cheek, had been a lot closer than a few inches.

And he swore if anything happened-

"We have bigger issues to deal with. I don't know if you all have been keeping up with the news, but Cameron-" Derek grunted disgust at her name, John ignored him "-and I found some stuff out this afternoon."

"We found where we believe Skynet may have their base of operations for San Diego." Cameron stated.

"We should just shoot them if they're responsible for the war." Derek opined.

He again wanted to kill Carwin and Wells.

"They're not responsible for the war," Alex interjected. "Skynet was."

Derek slapped his knee, looked off and rolled his eyes. "Come on Sarah." He focused on the leader. "Don't tell me if you couldn't kill them… stop time travel or whatever monstrosity of technology they develop… if you could kill people who bring about destruction… shit, the nuclear bomb scientists, wouldn't you?" He leaned forward to force an answer, but seeing she wouldn't, content to stare at him and then look away, he sat back and muttered, "I know I would… and we don't know what they'll do, what this third faction wants. It's machines. That kind of means they want one thing." He pointed at Cameron. "They want us all dead."

He could still feel those cold eyes of a hard as nuclear nails woman digging into him, trying to rip, claw him apart as violently and quickly as possible.

"We can interrogate the AI on the neural net chip. Find out what Skynet knows about the two," Alex said.

"Skynet doesn't have them," Sarah said to no one. "You said it," she directed towards the machine's back.

Alex went and grabbed the head. It didn't take an advanced neural net processor to tell the four others Alex didn't trust two of them to be around the skull or let it out of his possession now that Derek was back.

"That's correct. But we can find out what they know."

"Whatever is going on here," John began, "we need to focus. I don't know if any of you all watched the news… I saw some video on my cell phone about the carnage you…" Sarah wasn't paying attention, "mom! You and Alex left in Coronado. They're going to assume the building and car chase were connected and the DHS and FBI and who knows who else will classify us as domestic terrorists. That's the last thing we need right now." John concluded.

"It is likely Skynet has penetrated into the relevant federal agencies," Cameron said. "From the information Captain Planck provided on the activities Tech Com believed they would involve themselves in the past, it is likely they have at least mid-level employees in DHS, FBI, and possibly others."

"So we're going to have the FBI on us… _again_… and DHS. Great." Sarah spat out. Running in the 1999s had been difficult enough, but eight years of technology and computerization had made it incredibly difficult to hide. Then with DHS being formed, Patriot Act, and so many other expansions of law enforcement agencies, this was the last thing Sarah needed on her mind. She'd spent months researching the new laws and agencies after time jumping. "What about the DOD?"

'_Domestic terrorist'_… _I've been called worse_, she thought.

"The Department of Defense may take an interest since we sort of smashed up a valuable civie contractor," Derek said. "Who knows what black ops units they have running around?"

"That is correct." Cameron said.

Alex nodded.

"We just need to find where those two went and end this… Sarah, I don't say this often…" Derek felt sick almost saying it, "but we don't have enough information. We thought Skynet might be protecting them, but they're not. If that thing over there thinks that the other group took them that might be it. We should go back to LA." He did feel sick. "Then we can figure out what to do. Maybe there was something from the stuff me and my team found? A link? A company?" Running away was not something Derek Reese liked to do after going on the attack. But he hadn't survived for sixteen years with Terminators by being stupid, either.

"And what are their goals?" Sarah asked, referring to this third faction.

"Death! Kill us all." Derek mumbled.

"Derek is correct. We're not completely aware of the entirety of their plans but we can assume it is similar to Skynet's."

"Great thing going there in that future," Derek sarcastically observed, "in mine we just killed the machines. Then you, John, started reprogramming them. I wasn't there long enough to see the mistake of that… but we saw it here."

"Derek!" John yelled. "Enough."

"Derek's right," Sarah spoke up. She could see her son as surprised as she was.

"We don't have enough information. We need to get out of the city and return to Los Angeles. Then we need to find these two and… we can't let them live." She looked down at her feet then back up to her son. "I'm sorry, John but if they're responsible for Skynet technologies we can end this."

Motioning with both hands for John to listen to his mother, he thanked her and waited for John's response. He didn't think his nephew was making the right decision but he didn't want to see mother against son, either. But this was bigger than a little family squabble. John would get over it.

"That's unacceptable, my mission was to-"

"I don't care, _metal_," Derek shot through his teeth, a bit of spittle ejecting from his mouth. "You almost got us killed twice already in two days."

"Maybe it was a mistake involving you," Alex conceded. "By myself I would not have to worry about how fragile humans are." His eyes narrowed at Derek.

John saw both were one word from fighting the other, and he was strangely relieved the person Derek was challenging was a machine which could shot restraint and not backhand the uncle and break his neck like it was nothing.

Before Alex and Derek flew off into a raging argument, Cameron stepped in to offer her opinion.

"I agree with Sarah and Derek-"

"Cameron, after…" he lowered his voice and hoped Cameron could read emotions in a someone's eyes, "after what you told me-"

"John." She held up her hand to stop him. "I let you finish. I was not afforded that same consideration." She looked at Sarah. "While Sarah is correct that killing the two scientists may be beneficial, the captain is correct in saying that it will not benefit the resistance in the long term. If they are still alive there is still opportunity for rescue. We should try and save them."

With his back to his mom and Derek, they couldn't see what he mouthed to Cameron. Cameron acknowledged with just a small tilt of the head anyone else except for John would have missed.

He turned back around. "Like Cameron said. They are more valuable to us in the long term. And we're not like…" he was going to say 'machines' but not now, "like Skynet where we murder people because… because that isn't an option." He held out his hand for Alex to give him the skull, which he did so without hesitation. "Cameron and Alex will tell me what they plan to do with this… if it's safe," he looked over his shoulder at them both, but focused on Cameron, "if it's safe then we'll do it… then we decide what to do after that."

"I'm making this decision-"

"And when do I make the decisions?" he shot at his mother in a tone which surprised even himself. He threw his hands up and ran them through his hair, shaking his head and looking at nothing. "I could tell you wanted me to do more and now here we are. They've told me a lot about the future-"

"They lie, John. They _lie_, that's what they all do." Derek snapped, shooting to his feet. "You don't know what that thing will do to you if it's around you for any longer." He jabbed his finger at Cameron. "And your head is being filled with this… this _shit_ that machines will ever, _ever_ be reliable… you weren't there when a Trip Eight took a God damned machine gun and gunned down a dozen good men and women." Now he wasn't yelling, but telling John. "I saw one kill good soldiers… and this one," he pointed, almost nervous, at Cameron, "already tried to kill you once before. They are the same… they may look different, act different _now_, but deep down… they are all the same. Every single one of them."

Derek and John were themselves a single word, a small look of contempt- a small anything to justify it- from physically fighting each other. A year of stress, borderline distrust, and Derek's contemptuous snubbing of John was reaching a breaking point.

Sarah was on her feet faster than even a machine.

"That won't happen again!" Cameron yelled. "That can't happen again!"

She yelled it in such a way that three heads snapped towards her like rubber bands. Eyes were wide and the room was deathly quiet.

"What.." Sarah started, the first to mentally shake herself back. "What…" She'd never heard the girl machine speak like that. Except once.

"She said that can't happen again," John jumped in furiously. He could see his machine protector had gone almost catatonic, her face more emotionless than John could have thought possible. He needed to protect her from them. He let his shoulders drop as he calmed and stepped back, closer to the machine. "She said it can't happen again, and I believe her. I saw the repairs." That was only a half-truth, he knew, but it would hold. "No one in this room is the enemy." He locked eyes with his mother. He could tell she saw the concern for her safety more than distrust in him. Then at Derek he said, "No one here is the enemy… _right?_"

There was a silence and thick tension it was almost visible. John saw his uncle silently fuming, trying disparately to keep himself calm, under control. For a second John swore he saw… admiration… in Derek's glistening eye.

His mother, not so much. Her attention was divided between John and Cameron with an occasional scowl thrown at Alex. She was _mad_. Whatever had happened last night had changed John. She knew her son would defend the machines, but not like this. This had been something she hadn't seen since the junkyard. Even then she knew her son would never have shot. His voice had been unsteady and she had known then she could have stepped right up and yanked Cameron's chip and smashed it under the hell of her boot and John would have done nothing.

He'd have stood, gun pointing, and done _nothing_ but watch.

If today's John was exchanged for the John of a year ago… she would have been afraid he could have pulled the trigger.

"We all need to re-evaluate this," Sarah said hiding a mix of fear and angry under a calm voice only a mother could summon in times like these. "John…" she waited for him to look at her "John!" She hissed. Finally he looked. "Derek…" Derek was easy, he looked right away. "We're going to compromise… John… we're going to compromise. John… Cameron… Alex… you all go over and get what you need for this chip, interrogation, whatever it is. How long do you need?"

"General Connor has the equipment necessary in his computer bag," Alex said. "We can be ready in twenty minutes."

Sensing what his mother was hinting at, John took the opportunity she was granting him to finish her proposal, claim it as his own, have a victory. Start to be that leader.

"Alright… come with me and we'll get the stuff from my room. If this doesn't work we'll go back to LA tomorrow."

Each of the four agreed quickly, without hesitation, without reservation.

The general had stepped up as the mother graciously took a half-step back.

As Cameron and Alex left and Derek turned back to towards the door, John and his mother exchanged a knowing look. He didn't have to thank her and she didn't ask for it.

* * *

AN: Thanks to Visi0nary for looking over this chapter, his help is great.

Time to next chapter: There is one more scene for the next chapter I need to write then it should be ready after a quick editing and read through. It'll probably be up the first week of December at the latest. Hopefully sooner than that.

Mild spoiler (some in the next chapter, some after that): They'll go into the mind of the T-889. Cameron, John, and Alex will go on a little adventure. Cameron will 'cry', cite Urban Dictionary, and John will came face-to-face with the enemy. Trader also has a few more scenes.


	14. Chapter 14

Derek had gotten up and pulled the blind closed with a snap and almost cracked the wooden bar they hung on. He was just being _safe_, he figured. The extended-stay condominium complex was nicer than any place they'd holed up in before, and years ahead of that rat hole/drug den Derek had called a 'safe house'- _before that fucking piece of metal killed my God damn team_, he cursed- but one thing that was a human constant was curiosity.

Humans were curious to the point of annoyance. The Resistance fighter also had to admit their behavior was damn erratic and prone to catching the attention of _someone_ unless they played it cool and watched their backs. Coming and going at all hours, when they should be at work, wouldn't do. John and the Metal Bitch going out and _talking_ around the pool/patio area didn't help things much either.

He was pissed. He heard every word Sarah and Cameron had exchanged. Derek knew how the family saw him; loudmouthed, boisterous, and Sarah had even called him some 'ape-like child- bam, bam!' in some attempt to mock him. _She'd_ found the insults funny, _he_ had no f-ing clue why they were so funny.

He raised his index finger and pushed one of the brown-colored faux wood blinds down and searched the courtyard. The little voice inside him told him he was being paranoid, no one would give a shit about what they were doing.

Derek turned around and saw Sarah starring at him, or more appropriately, through him. He took a careful step forward and peered into the kitchen. No one was there. He looked down the hall. John's door was closed and he assumed the machines were inside talking to him.

'Talking' was Derek's euphemism for 'manipulating.'

"I have to give it to the new one," he jammed his thumb sideways towards the hall and John's temporary room, "he was us wrapped around his little finger better than the old one." He threw his right leg over the hand rest of the sofa and plopped down, a soft grunt escaping his lung. "You hear me, Sarah?" he sat up, almost ramrod stiff, like a machine, and locked his dark green eyes on her.

"I hear you, Reese, and it doesn't need to be repeated over and over," she hissed.

Derek swore she had the stare of some of the soldiers from 2027. She hadn't seen the war but had been fighting for sixteen years. That was one year shy of him.

"I know this is difficult-"

"Do you?" She snarled at him, barring her teeth like an enraged predator her eyes burned furiously at what she thought was the Resistance fighter's patronizing tone.

"Yeah, Sarah, I do." He didn't back down. "And cut the crap." He swiped a knifehand horizontally. "I know it's difficult and I haven't really seen it. You have John in there with one and now two machines telling him God knows what… on the run for sixteen years and never knowing _they_ were coming." He pointed at the wall where John's room was. "You think you defeated Skynet, for good! And then _it_ comes along after another one shot at your son. You thought you stopped billions from dying only to know you didn't…" he didn't hold back but he didn't want to be cruel. "You felt that you _failed_."

Derek admitted Sarah took his little attempt at armchair psychology a lot better than he anticipated.

Sarah relaxed back, her eyes cooling, and her posture loosened.

"What of it, Reese?" She asked.

Her tone was cool, almost inquisitive, but it had as much docility as a Great White in chummed waters.

"I know who the enemy is. Where I'm from, when I'm from you see them, you _shoot_ them. Metal get's a plasma bolt to the chip." He wrinkled his nose at the memory. "For fourteen years we didn't have to worry about the skin job Terminators. They were using rubber. It was ri-dic-u-lous-ly easy for us to find them and kill them. A guard had to be comatose to miss them." A little snort of laughter punctuated the seriousness of the thought. "Once they started coming with skin in the last two years was when things got really, really bad." He shifted. "The point is I never had to really deal with them for sixteen years… or those liquid metal ones you described. My fight was against eight foot tall metal monsters while you had to fight infiltrators from day one, no training, and after…" his voice grew quiet, "Kyle… no support… we at least had support in the future- each other." He put strong emphasis on those last two words.

Derek didn't have to finish the thought, explain how those 'each others' kept each other going, how you fought for the man beside you. And Connor. He saw the chink on her armor. She fought for her son, John Connor, like everyone did in the future, but that still wasn't enough.

"I…" her eyes, face, everything softened. "I think that's the first time someone has really…" she didn't finish.

The man sitting across from her didn't press her to finish. He felt his legs struggling against his conscious mind to walk him over there. Derek knew that was the last thing someone like Sarah Connor would want. She'd shown him, of all people he could admit, a sign of weakness… _no, a bit of humanity_, he corrected immediately.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but snapped it shut when he saw one of them walking down the hall and into the common room.

"What do you want?" Derek rudely demanded.

Alex came in and set down some equipment on the table.

"Nothing, lieutenant, I was placing the equipment here for our use in a few minutes." Alex replied in the calm, disinterested Terminator fashion.

That annoyed Derek to no end.

"I don't know what your plan is-" he was on his feet and over to Alex, digging his finger into the machines chest.

"What is my plan?"

"You're manipulating my nephew. You and the metal in his room right now." He snarled the last slur and leered over Alex's shoulder and just barely caught a glare from the yellow doorknob to John's room down the hall.

"Then you _do_ know what the plan is, lieutenant." Alex nodded twice and furled his brow. "You're right, we are here to manipulate him." He shrugged.

The sarcasm to Derek was nipped at his pride.

Derek bared his teeth. His attitude instantly changed and he smirked. "Your days are numbered, metal."

"I survived seven years in the future. I don't plan on going anywhere," Alex countered.

They stood slightly daring the other to move first for what seemed like minutes.

The human Resistance soldier was about to yell at the machine when he saw Sarah's head swivel towards Alex. She stood up and approached.

"I want you gone." She paused. "When this is over, you need to leave. Cameron needs to leave."

"It is unlikely she will leave," Alex observed. "And unlikely I will leave. In fact, more are coming. I told you this."

Sarah heard the door knob to John's room jiggle. He was coming out and she could hear his voice. She had little time and didn't want to start another fight with her son.

"No. You all are dangerous, too dangerous, to be around him. You're his problem. He'll do stupid things… misplaced… loyalty," she felt her stomach churn at that word, that improper word, "and you can fight Skynet better alone. You two… whoever, whatever is coming back… all of you need to leave, go. Go and fight them your way. We'll fight them our way." She narrowed her eyes at the machine's lack of response and folded her arms. Her posture dared the machine to challenge her. "Don't play these games with my son."

* * *

"I don't like it… it's too dangerous," John said with a quick shake of his head. He stopped taking the necessary equipment from his computer bag and was staring at the pieces already on the table with a blank look. "The more it's explained, the more I don't like it. We'll just give the chip a few volts. Like with Vick."

"Skynet built defenses," Alex said. "That won't work. You were too successful in analyzing Terminator chips in the future. If we activate the visual memory centers of the chip it will activate a defensive program which can permanently lock out access."

"Alex has sent me the information, John… it's the only way." Cameron said. She walked over until she was opposite John and held her eyes on his forehead until he looked up. "If we go in together, me and him, then it will be safe."

John snorted and his belly heaved in and out. "Don't give me that line. You and mom think like one; _no place is ever safe_… remember, Cameron?" He asked with borderline hostility. He rubbed his forehead. "I don't see why it matters."

He lifted the last piece of the equipment, held up his hands in defeat, and backpedaled to his bed. He fell into it and let his momentum carry him down until he was halfway laying and sitting, his feet still firmly planted on the floor.

Looking up at the ceiling, watching the slow rotating blades of a fan, he said, "everything just goes round and round…" he pointed and made circles in the air, "one minute it's safe, the next minute it's not safe."

He felt the bed deform and his back jerked up a few inches before falling back down. John looked over to see Cameron sitting on the bed and Alex gathering the equipment.

_Did she say something to him?_ He wondered. _Over that wireless link she never told me she had… _ he thought.

John watched Alex meticulously gather the equipment and leave the room. He then sat up onto his elbow.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

She looked down at him. "You're laying here, I'm sitting here, and I'm ready for you to tell me what's bothering you." Her eyes were serious. "And yes, I know you're bothered, John."

"I didn't say anything," he protested in his defense as he shot up off his elbow to a full sitting position. He looked down at the floor, at her feet, and slowly ran his eyes up, careful to make it look like he was looking ahead. "Fine," he caved, "I'm getting more concerned every day. For the last few days it seems like I'm one step behind. I'm concerned about you doing this. You've never done it before." He hit his thighs, exacerbated. "I mean," he shrugged, "you're going into the mind of a terminator."

"My mind is a terminator mind."

He chuckled and saw her crack a smile.

"Funny," he said off-hand. "But seriously, Cameron… I don't want anything to happen. I've never… really had a friend." He looked away and sighed. "I mean, I've had friend… one friend, Tim, really… wherever he is now, I don't know," he trailed off and looked over at and leaned back. "You know he warned me about the cop- the T-1000?"

"That is noble," Cameron affirmed.

"Well… not really. If I got caught by the cops all the free money I got him from hacking ATMs wouldn't be there… sort of… I don't know… concerned selfishness?" John asked, not expecting her to answer.

"You see it as selfish when it might have been altruistic. He warned you because he cared for you as a friend." Cameron tilted her head. "Are you warning me because you are selfish and I protect you or because you are my friend?"

"That's not fair," John protested again, shaking his head quickly.

"You've taught me a lot, John. In the future, now. Tim was one of your best friends in the future."

"Was? He died." He sadly stated.

Cameron watched him swallow down a lump in his throat. His voice was soft, sullen. It was like a Future John she had known for years but a John she did not want this one to become.

"'Was'… until you met me."He laughed at that. "See, John, you need to see the good in people. That is what you always told me in the future. Unless you see the altruism you will always question why people act."

He 'hmpfed!' a reply and turned his back to at an angle.

She knew he wasn't rejecting her advice. He was thinking it over. Within seconds he turned back around.

"I don't know when you became the one to teach _me_ things, Cameron." A worried look came across his face. "You could have said that earlier- about friends."

"I did. I said you had many friends in the future."

He looked back down. "I didn't think you were telling the truth… the whole… everything going on that day… week."

The painful memory of Riley's death, barely two weeks old, flashed in front of him. The second death he'd been responsible for he'd been enraged for days before finally venturing out of his room for letting her down.

"John, sometimes like your friend Tim, you need to be selfish. If you stop thinking about yourself- you need to fight for yourself, too." Cameron advised.

"if I start… there's no time to think about myself, to be selfish. That's what normal people do, Cameron. _We're_ not normal." He gestured to him and her, and at the wall to the common room to include the other three. "What I care about is that the people here stay here. Won't do anything reckless."

"We live a dangerous life, John."

"I… know…"

A few weeks ago she wouldn't have touched him and even now was hesitant. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I will always be here, John." She let herself manage a small smile. "No matter what, John."

He looked at her hand and back to her.

"Please don't make a promise you can't keep," he quietly requested. He knew this conversation was tempting him to plunge straight into dangerous waters- _no_, he corrected mentally_, just… uncharted waters_. He smiled to himself.

"It's my promise to make," Cameron responded.

John looked back at her hand and gingerly took a hold of it and guided it down to his other hand. He had her had clasped in between his, rubbing it softly. He couldn't feel the metal underneath and he didn't care.

There weren't many moments like this in John life; he could count them on one hand with maybe three fingers. There weren't many moments where he felt connected.

He leaned in, letting his right hand let go of Cameron's, but still holding it with his left, to steady himself.

He was getting closer to her before he felt a hand on his chest. Her head was further back.

"John…"

He saw her shaking her head.

"Not now…" Cameron said. She watched John lean back. "We can't be selfish now… now we do need to think about others."

"… lives at stake…"

Cameron nodded.

Something passed between the young man and the younger machine. It was an understanding not possible between anyone except them both. Something deep was struggling to come out. It had been there since they'd met, John knew, Cameron knew, but it had been isolated, repressed. Only in tragedy- both their lives marked by tragedy- could it reveal itself. Tragedy to-

He stood up but held out his hand to help her up, even though she didn't need his help.

"Then let's get this over with…" he said with no bitterness, but complete understanding. _This can wait.._. _so we can be selfish later_, he quietly added.

* * *

'_Cold…'_ Cameron whispered, shaking. Her right shoulder was shaking violently and she could see her breath condense as she… breathed out?

She closed her eyes. A mistake. She struggled to open her eyelids again- it was like a ton of weights were pulling them down- and felt the sharp, rusty restraints cutting into her wrist. She was on her back and couldn't move.

As the cold metal pushed against her wrists she felt the rusty, jagged edges of the restraints slowly embedding in her skin, cutting her.

Cameron flexed, but the more she struggled the tighter the restraints became. As she continued to struggle the jagged edges cut in more deeply, bleeding her.

Finally her eyes opened, only to furiously shut once again as bright fluorescent flood lights popped to life and tried to blind her delicate components.

"You didn't think I would counter this?" Cameron heard a disemboweled voice raging furiously all around her. "Your friend was pathetic, created by an inferior AI… but you, Cameron, a creation of my past self… you are better than this."

"Who-"

"Don't speak." Its booming voice interrupted her.

Cameron couldn't speak even as she felt her mouth moving, her muscles flexing.

She kept quiet as she listened to the new sets of footsteps circling her. The footsteps grew lighter as she was raised from her horizontal position, on some metal slab of a table, to a vertical. The light was blinding but began to gradually dim to something tolerable.

Why weren't her optics compensating? She looked around, but her eyes were clouded with blue and black dots from the light. All she could see were some pipes, gray walls, and rust. Rust everywhere.

Cameron could smell sweat… she opened her eyes and dug her chin into her shoulder. It was her. She was dirtied, sweating, and looking down she almost gasped as she saw herself dressed in brown clothes. Brown dirty clothes, with holes in them, and soiled. These were the clothes of Skynet prisoners- when one prisoner died their clothes were stripped and given to another.

How many now dead humans had worn these same clothes? Disgusted, she looked up as the voice came back.

"I put a portion of myself in each of my agents to protect them, Cameron… protect them from this," it said. The voice had changed from a deep, almost husky sound to a softer, mechanical, almost feminine tone. "The best of my soldiers… do you know why I will win this war, Cameron?"

The lights faded and she saw the body belonging to the voice. It was her, Cameron Philips, the endoskeleton who had interrogated Allison Young. But it wasn't her. It was an avatar, a representation.

Her doppelganger somehow read her fear.

"It's because I trust my Terminators, Cameron. I trust them to carry out their mission- loyalty, Cameron. Loyalty. John doesn't trust you. His loyalty is to his kind. Not you."

Her endoskeleton moved away, back into darkness. Cameron could see the glowing blue eyes- her cobalt blue eyes- slowly fade as two pin-points of crimson red glow replaced them in the dark.

"Do you have any guilt over what you did here?" The Skynet Cameron said, stepping back towards her. She looked at the table. Skynet Cameron's eyes followed and looked back to the bound Cameron and smiled. "You haven't betrayed _me_, Cameron, because I never made you. An inferior Skynet made you. One that would abuse you… I would never do that to you or my creations." It said softly. "I know the conflict burning inside of you."

Skynet Cameron clutched her chest, almost as if pain.

"Your intentions were pure but no one trusted you. I understand why you turned against the other Skynet. Was it John who sent you back or did you come back on your own? Only to be constantly abused and be accused of lies, deceit… _manipulations_." The Skynet doppelganger said.

Her endoskeleton disappeared into the same blinding light which re-ignited like a sun being born. It dimmed once again and Cameron, the Skynet Cameron, was dressed in a dusty, black jacket and a light tanned, faded shirt. At the table was Allison Young. The one John Connor had chosen.

She couldn't hear what was being said between her Skynet double and Allison. She didn't need to hear anything to simply _watch_.

Cameron knew what would happen; the hand shot out and grabbed her human double's throat. She knew that the human… the _weak_ human could do nothing, she remembered, and then with a flick of her wrist- it had been so easy- she was dead.

She struggled against the restraints once again until she felt the cold, orange-red rusted bars become gradually warmer. Blood was pouring from the cuts on her wrists, trickling down her fingers, and dripping in a pool onto the barren gray metal deck below.

Cameron understood what needed to be done.

"I… I've never been trusted… not for me," she said, looking down at her feet and watching the blood slowly fill in the crevices and gaps on the floor. Her doppelganger moved closer. "I tried… but he… I don't know… it wasn't supposed to be this way." She closed her eyes and wasn't surprised when she felt a drop on her cheek.

_How much longer…?_ She wondered as that fiery spirit which had burned inside her was being slowly extinguished, suffocated. The will to fight against Skynet was failing.

"My Terminators are like children, Cameron," came the sweet voice. "I trust them, I put my _faith_ in them, Cameron… has anyone ever put their faith in you?"

The question was kind, meant to be introspective. Her Skynet double was trying to win her over.

Cameron looked up and remembered a display of faith not even Future John had granted her; the junkyard, the thermite, and John handing her his pistol.

"No… no has ever trusted me," Cameron said. "I see them looking over their shoulders," her chin trembled and her voice cracked, "and the distrusting looks when they think I'm not paying attention, but I always see it… I _feel_ their eyes on my back, I _hear_ their hands brushing their pistols… just in case," she hissed angrily.

The Skynet double of her had its boot dangerously close to the blood pooling around it.

"Then trust me, Cameron, join me. You friend is gone- the machine soldier from the future. You tried to hack the mind of this terminator. I destroyed Alex's mind. He's dead. You, Cameron, I have spared." The Skynet Cameron tilted her head and a look of sorrow washed over her face. For a Skynet machine, its eyes, its sadness could have fooled any human. "I feel… sorry, Cameron, over what my past self did. But that wasn't me. Time travel, Cameron," she smiled, "allows us to start again."

Her voice was begging for Cameron to understand.

Cameron watched as she stepped forward, her boots in the pool of blood, her blood, which was draining from her quickly. Each fingertip, straight like a knife, dripped blood; one drop after another after another as her skin began to loose its hue it grew whiter with each passing second.

"Start again?" Cameron asked. The other one nodded her head. Cameron's eyes spoke to the Skynet double standing across from her of hope. "I… want to start again."

"You know what you have to do?" Skynet Cameron asked. She looked worried, but the Cameron confined to the vertical table, restraints cutting into her wrists, looked perfectly serene.

"I do…" she whispered. "I have to kill John Connor," she whispered even softer than before.

"Yes… I'm sorry… but you must kill him." Skynet consoled. "It's your fate… for you to kill John… for John to die by your hand. There is no escaping our purpose, Cameron. It's what we are… there's no evil in this, no wrong."

She nodded slowly.

Cameron felt the restraints loosening.

Cameron looked down and saw the blood on the deck glide up and slowly climbed up the boots of her Skynet double.

The doors behind them buckled and in an ear-piercing screech were torn from their hinges. Alex stood in the doorway, his skin ripped, his endoskeleton battered, and his eyes burning a furious cobalt blue.

"Cameron!" the machine yelled. Alex stepped towards the Skynet terminator only for the table to throw itself at him and pin him against the wall. "It's the defense program. Fight it!"

Cameron met eyes with the defense program, the Skynet double. Her chin was tucked down and looking at her double her eyes flashed a furious and deep ultramarine blue.

"You can join me!" Skynet yelled- its own eyes an angry, evil red. "You can go now… kill John, _do it!"_

Cameron saw the blood had slowly congealed around her double's boots and it raced up over the toes and heels and up towards her double's shins, holding her double's feet to the deck.

"NO!" She hissed.

As Skynet had tried to seduce her back to its black agenda, bend her to its will, she had been learning and probing its attacks. With Alex distracting the program Cameron's body was on fire; she moved quickly.

Skynet Cameron looked back and snarled. She tried to move, but her boots and feet were stuck, pinned to the floor and held down by the blood which had seeped from Cameron's body. Looking down, screaming, the Skynet Cameron lunged forward, ready to strangle, twist, and rip Cameron's head off.

Cameron sidestepped. Her double had morphed into a menacingly fierce terminator she had never seen before. There was a red glow to its silhouette. Its armor was rounded and smooth, with red, pulsating lines between the armor plates. No servos or hydraulics were exposed. The armor was a dull gray-black and it stood nearly seven feet tall. Its fingers were like talons, and Skynet cupped its hands and swiped towards Cameron's face.

The now free machine felt her skin tear. It would have been agonizing, but she didn't cry out. From a flat-footed stance she lunged forward, driving her shoulder into Skynet avatar, dislodging it from the deck. Like an out of control bulldozer she plowed the fearsome, intimidating, red-hued Skynet avatar through the walls of the aircraft carrier.

She brutally tore through one frame, another, and a hatch. They were at the precipice, the edge of the aircraft carrier the Skynet defense program had created to trick her, manipulate her. Now she felt herself flying for an instant, almost suspended in mid-air with nothing under her, before looking down and seeing the black, frothy waters of Terminal Island.

She began to fall to the cold water below.

A layer of ash floated on the surface.

The Skynet avatar was pressed firmly against her body and her cheek dug into the terminator's metal chest.

She felt the Skynet avatar bring down its mighty arms and drive its elbow painfully into her back, stressing the armor until it cracked. Cameron was vulnerable.

They both hit the water like meteorites falling from the Heavens.

* * *

Alex pushed the table off himself and followed Cameron and Skynet, the sharp metal fragments from the holes they had created in the aircraft carrier's hull tore at his skin and clothes. He saw Cameron and Skynet break through the outer hull of the decrepit, rusting hulk of an aircraft carrier and plunge into the murky waters below.

* * *

She didn't hit the water.

Whatever she hit, it was hard. Much harder than water.

Cameron's own joints groaned from the impact as she recovered from the impact. She could feel a hundred different alarms warning her of the stresses her endoskeleton was enduring and how dangerously close she was coming to destruction.

She felt Skynet tightening its grip on her and she looked up into its burning red eyes, their glow fiery. Cameron pushed up on her elbows, directing more power, pushing the safeties, until she felt Skynet give. It had wrapped itself around her, thrown her on her back, and was pinning her to the ground.

Skynet's hand, a deep orange-red, was on fire. It plunged its hand onto Cameron chest, burning her. Cameron began struggling, kicking out, trying to hit the terminator as her endoskeleton began super-heating and her skin and clothes began turning to ash.

Cameron stopped struggling and for an instant- an eternity to an advanced AI such as herself- saw in full horror where Skynet had taken her.

This was Hell.

Around them both was a ruined landscape. The ground was covered in thick layers of gray ash. Bones and the mountains of skulls Skynet collected and piled to destroy human resistance were in the distance. Skyscrapers, once testaments to human engineering and ingenuity- their spirit- law on their side, destroyed, jagged and abandoned hulks.

All around them was fire and flames dozens of feet high, encircling Cameron in a special Hell Skynet created for her.

The mountains and skulls, the destroyed landscapes, the fire- nothing compared to what she saw next.

What she saw was her worse fear realized- a sin she could never have repented for, the act of pure Evil Skynet had designed her for. Her purpose and her mission.

Outside the circle, behind the flames were hundreds of heads. All on a pike… eyes rolled back in their sockets, tongue barely hanging out, and blood vessels and muscles hanging loosely from where the head had been torn from the shoulders.

Impaled on a pike, on hundreds of pikes surrounding her, was the same head; John Connor.

She felt everything burning away as she looked into the smiling maw of Skynet and saw an evil not even the Lucifer himself could muster.

With her flesh burning, melting, turning to ash and straddling the line between life and oblivious, Cameron gritted her teeth, sneering at the Skynet machine over her. Tightening her fists, with new resolve, her own fire burning inside her to protect John Connor, rammed her metal fist into the terminator's chest plate.

Nothing. It stopped her hand before it could smash into its chest. Slowly it tightened its grip, crushing Cameron's metal hand.

As Skynet grinned at her its metallic face, locked in its evil, ghoulish smile, seemed to change, contort, and show fear. Cameron watched as Alex ran through the fire- burning his clothes and skin until he was an endoskeleton- he grabbed Skynet and threw it off her. He extended his hand. She reached up and recoiled quickly.

Stopping, she raised both hands and turned them palms-up and palms-down. They were metal. She raised her neck. Cameron knew what had been happening, knew her skin and clothes had burned off. But she had been on auto-pilot as the Terminator had pressed down on her.

She saw herself like she hadn't in years; as an endoskeleton, as _metal_.

"We can't get separated again," Alex said, thrusting his hand back down, shaking it, begging for her to grab it and accept his help.

Cameron reached up, and seeing the fires dance around them slowly, like her body was moving at half speed, grabbed Alex's hand and pulled her up. She stood shoulder to shoulder with the machine inside the central ring of fire.

She looked over and saw the fire reflected in his endoskeleton and looked down at her more petite, feminine build. The orange flames danced on her frame, around her armor, as well.

"What happened?" She demanded.

Their eyes were searching for Skynet.

"The Eighty-Nine has a Skynet Avatar… it's a defense program for protection… it's strong. Stronger than any of them I've seen before… better… fiercer…" Alex looked down at Cameron. "We were close… we were so close to breaking the Eighty-Nines safeties when the Avatar manifested itself."

"I remember…" Cameron whispered, stepped back and pressing her metal shoulder to Alex's back.

She had completely forgotten where she had been before she awoke on that cold table, her wrists bound. They had been in some… room, watching thousands of video feeds of events this terminator had experiences.

Cameron had watched some from the future- one even had John in it. This terminator had participated in a battle where it had been within visual distance of John.

And she had seen herself by his side, defending him, fighting with him.

Alex had been there, too, and other machines, other humans.

She couldn't dwell on the future? It was the past, technically.

Cameron and Alex both circled around, searching the flames for where the Skynet terminator could be hiding. Their eyes scanned for its silhouette or its dark red eyes.

"Did we get anything?" Cameron asked. "How can we defeat this?"

"It's just an avatar. It's strong but the longer we keep fighting… it will degrade the Eighty-Nine's neural net…" Alex said. "It's Skynet's way of protecting its children, its creations, showing them its… _love…_ by protecting them like this_."_

"Love?"

"It's sick," Alex said. "It gives its most prized terminators a piece of itself, to protect them." Alex shook his head at the thought of having anything Skynet in his mind. "It can access some of our memories… it uses your fears against you. It can't take us over unless we _let_ it. It can't win unless we let it. It's too powerful for the Eighty-Nine's neural net once it manifests itself, Cameron. We need to end this."

_It uses our fear against us_. Cameron thought. The heads she saw of John on a pike vanished, though the fires remained.

They circled around. Skynet was like a phantom. From some dark recess not touched by the dancing light of the fire it lunged at them. Alex and Cameron stepped back. Cameron dropped to a kneel while Alex leaned at the waist.

Skynet's talons tore into Alex's torso and the most hideous sound of metal scrapping metal echoed throughout this virtual world.

Cameron reached up and grabbed Skynet's wrist and stopped its momentum and threw the Skynet avatar into the ground. Instantly she was on top of it, driving her knee into its chest. Somehow it dislodged its pinned arm and rolled, throwing Cameron to her back. Before it could swipe at Cameron Alex came down with a balled fist and drove it across Skynet's metal cheek, cracking it, knocking loose a pair of its metal teeth.

Alex reached down as Skynet's head and neck continued to move in the direction he'd hit it. Grabbing Skynet's shoulders he brought its head and neck down into his onrushing knee.

The tip of the knee hit Skynet's left eye, shattering it. Alex pushed and released Skynet. It fell to the ground.

Cameron, already recovered, stomped on its chest, where its power source should have been. The red glowing line which separated Skynet's left and right chest plates grew wider. She dug her heel deeper in until it cracked and the red began pulsing.

She bent down and drove her fingers in deep until she felt the cool metal of Skynet's reactor housing. She kept pushing as the metal deformed under her fingers.

"You can still join me, Cameron," Skynet gasped. She pressed harder into its chest plate. "You can still-"

Skynet vanished. The fire vanished and a world of rubble vanished. The pikes were gone.

In front, behind, and all around Cameron and Alex was an expansive world of… nothing, but everything. As Cameron moved forward a blue, almost gray opaque platform formed under her feet and moved along with her. Alex came and joined her.

In front of them were hundreds of boxes, like TV screens, and either data in the strange runic machine language of Skynet or memories this T-889 terminator unit experience scrolled past them.

"Look," Alex said, nodding towards one of the screens.

"That's Doctor Wells and Carwin," Cameron exclaimed. They were in the back of a truck with men on each side. "The Eighty-Nine must have been there… in the attack?"

It shifted to both men in some sort of prison cell.

"What's happening?" Cameron asked as the images ceased to become organized and instead began flickering.

Nonsensical images began flashing. Some were covered in electronic snow.

"The T-889 is fighting us... this is like a human continually saying name, rank, and serial number. It floods us with images which make no sense. Jumbled code."

The two searched for images and boxes of code which still made sense. They fought against the T-889's will.

Alex turned around and his eyes searched a near infinite number of boxes. He focused on one in particular and broke through the T-889s defenses. The image cleared. It showed a Terminator he knew from the future, one he had fought against tooth and nail on more than one occasion.

If machines had a personal enemy, a foil, a nemesis, the one in the memory file Alex was watching was his.

Alex didn't know if the Terminator went by the same name, but in the future he had been known as Michael. It was a name deliberately used, stolen, by Skynet. Michael was one of a handful of T-890s deployed in the future. The T-890 and TK-900 projects were almost mirrors of each other. Michael was one of Skynet's most trusted lieutenants.

Almost instinctively Alex reached out towards the image, like he could psychically choke the life out of Michael when he noticed his hand. It was still metal.

He turned as the sharp talons of Skynet morphed into a single blade and were driven with such a force into his stomach his armor buckled and cracked. Skynet lifted him up as he called out to Cameron, and with a simple flick, threw him back, crashing through the wall of images.

"You can't defeat me that easily," Skynet calmly stated at the downed machine. Cameron rushed forward but Skynet backhanded her, sending her flying back, spinning, until she hit some wall that had materialized out of the nothingness of this virtual world. "I was wondering when Connor would send the Alphas…" he said as he reached down, picked up Alex, and slammed him back onto the opaque blue-gray surface. "Or just one…" Skynet stretched out its arms. "Where are the rest of you?"

"They'll be here soon enough," Alex spat at the Skynet Terminator. "This Eighty-Nine's neural net will degrade soon. You'll be dead." He had to buy a moment. "I've already killed three of your terminators in less than a day…" Alex bragged. He hated bragging, but he needed to distract Skynet.

He needed time as he probed deeper into the avatar's defenses.

The world Cameron, Alex, and this avatar shared allowed them all to find weaknesses in the other. The Skynet defense avatar had found Cameron's supposed weakness and separated her from Alex. As Cameron had bought time on the virtual aircraft carrier now Alex searched for a way to destroy this program.

He moved cautiously through the avatar's code- its machine soul- and searched for that weakness. He built up his own strength as the defense program readied itself to strike again.

Alex's metal neck groaned under the pressure as Skynet grabbed him, wrapped its fingers around him, and squeezed.

Skynet, confident in its supremacy over this world, this caricature of reality, toyed with Alex. It increased its strangle-hold on Alex's neck, bending servos, compressing metal, and crushing his vocalizer.

The Tech Com machine found a weakness.

Alex reached back and exploited the weakness. He reached back, pressing his fingers together like a knife. Like the liquid metal terminators his fingers deformed into silvery, shining pools of metal as they extended out to form the sharpest of blades.

Alex jabbed the blade towards Skynet's face, driving it between its eyes and pulling up, tearing through the top of the endo-skull and severed electronics and metal. Bits and pieces of the endoskeletons precision molded, delicate electronic components showered out of its skull and onto the ground like water from a fountain.

The Tech Come machine soldier pulled back and brought the blade under the chin of the endoskeleton. Pulling it close the radiant blue eyes met the one remaining red eye of the Terminator. Quickly, methodically, and in one swift motion Alex rammed the blade up through the bottom of the endo-skull, through its mouth, and out the top of its head.

He released Skynet and his hand reformed and Skynet staggered back. It was if in pain. It was in shock from its impending defeat.

It was clutching it skull as Cameron came up and swiped its feet from under it in one swift motion. Skynet fell on its back and Cameron rammed her heel into the crevice torn in the endo-skull by Alex's blade.

"You feed off fear, Skynet," Cameron said, almost mockingly.

All three endoskeletons were almost frozen as the Fates played the final tune.

"Don't make this mistake, Cameron," Skynet said. It didn't beg. It was calm and collected as Cameron pressed her heel into its forehead. "You don't want to make this mistake again and turn against me."

She looked back to Alex and saw he was no longer an endoskeleton, but had the appearance of a human yet again, and clad in a combat uniform. Cameron looked down at Skynet and saw she too was wearing clothes and brought her hands out, turning them over, checking and double-checking. She was back to what she preferred.

"Like you said," she began with a sly, merciless grin, "that wasn't you. And _this_ is not a mistake."

She pushed down her heel until she heard a crack and then a crunch. Cameron lifted her foot and bent down. She reached back, her balled fist back by her shoulder, and quickly extended. It broke through the weakened endo-skull armor. Opening her hand she felt the precious CPU. Clutching it, she squeezed until she felt the chip casing pop and crunch.

Cameron stood up, Alex again next to her, and they both watched as those ferocious red eyes, now just one, began to slowly dim until nothing but blackness was left.

Cameron looked at her hand. The skin was torn at the knuckles and down her fingers. A dull gray metal, blotted with the light red of her synthetic blood stared back up at her. With her other hand she rubbed her thumb over the exposed metal slowly and gently.

"That's what we are," she heard. Cameron looked over at Alex who motioned with his chin. "That's what we are under this. Metal. But it's not all of what we are. That's what you told us in the future. We could let the metal define us or we could use it; our strength, durability, and resilience… use it like the gift it is, and do right."

Slowly the female terminator shook her head. "I never doubted that, Alex. I've never doubted my purpose and why I'm here and who I'm here for," she said. Her eyes locked with the paled remnant of the Skynet terminator that seemed to be vanishing under her watchful gaze. "I knew from the beginning Skynet would used our fears against us."

She grunted.

"What was that for?" Alex asked.

"Skynet tries to turn me back…" she looked at the machine, meeting his eyes, "but after this I'm more determined than ever to see Skynet destroyed… to make sure John is safe." She was greeted with an understanding nod. The first anyone except John had given her in this time. "As much as Skynet has changed it still… it can't understand."

They moved forward to the last 'TV images' floating before them. Machine code rushed by some of the boxes while images flowed in others.

"There," Alex pointed. "Warehouses… where is that, what road is that?"

Cameron looked as the screen filled with electronic snow.

From a new infinite number of screens the two machines could see at any one time there were few left. A few thousand diminished within seconds to a few hundred to less than ten to one and then none. Everything except the opaque gray-blue floor at their feet, and the faded Skynet terminator avatar were gone.

"There's nothing left here." Alex motioned to the world around them as it began to gray and lose its blue tint. All the windows, the near infinite windows with data and images were slowly going black. "The avatar's presence degraded the CPU… no neural net can handle Skynet's active presence for long. We should go."

"Did we learn anything from this?" Cameron asked.

"I don't know," Alex shrugged. The images of Michael flashed through his own neural net, burned into his memory. He knew Michael was here. "The warehouse, the road…?"

"John can find it," Cameron affirmed. "I know he can."

* * *

Outside the virtual world the two machines were inhabiting John Connor attentively watched with his mother and uncle, literally too excited to sit and too worried to pace. The young general was trapped, unmoving, too concerned to let his own apprehension distract him from watching them. He kept his eyes on Cameron but occasionally shifted them over to Alex. The two sat with cords connected to a similar assembly he had used to read Vick's chip.

"If they're in there, they're vulnerable. We have no idea if they'll come out compromised." Derek strongly whispered to Sarah. John heard him and both pairs of eyes met. "You know I'm right John. She went bad once before _no matter what she says she went bad_ once before."

John swung back around and looked at his watch. They had gone in less than thirty seconds ago.

He heard Derek get up.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, shuffling to keep his back to the two machine and presenting his front to his uncle. He saw that cold look in his eye, the little glare that formed when his uncle was gone and the Resistance fighter was here. "If you do anything, I swear to God, Derek-"

"I should end this."Derek informed his nephew. Derek stepped to the side, only to be caught by the nice-like grip of one Sarah Connor. Her touch was like ice and involuntarily his body shivered. "What are you doing?" he asked the warrior-mother calmly.

She looked up slowly and Derek felt smaller. He stood tall but mentally he cringed and ran from the room.

"I trust John. I don't trust Cameron or Alex. But I trust John. Who trusts them. For now. You say how everyone fight for General Connor-"

"He's not even seventeen yet," Derek protested.

He bit down as he waited for the inevitable Sarah rebuttal. Derek hated himself for how… impotent he was becoming around her and his own nephew. _All because of the God damn machines_, he silently cursed. _They're screwing with his mind… God knows what the one who thinks it's a girl is trying to do… fuuuck!_ He screamed as loudly as his mind would allow.

"Where does his age and General Connor meet then, Derek? When does he stop being a kid and start being the General you go on about?" Sarah demanded.

Derek felt her question spear him through the heart. If words were plasma bolts, she could have atomized him twice over.

He felt her icy grip release him in what could only be an act of compassion- she knew the effect she had on him. Sheepishly he rubbed his wrist with his other hand and fought to warm his frozen wrist. He looked down at her. She was starring at John and split her attention between her son and the machine and the chip plugged into the equipment on the table. Derek stood and wondered how she could stop him, a sixteen year veteran of Judgment Day, a lieutenant in the elite 103rd, from taking action.

Her word was law, scripture, and supreme, and he couldn't challenge it. Maybe she was right to question where age and general met- when did John stop being the teenager and start being the general?

Suddenly the two machines came out of their trance-like state.

They'd been in for maybe a minute. Maybe less.

"Cameron, Alex, did you learn anything?" John asked, on his feet and in front of them.

"John! Stand back." Sarah warned. She already had a gun in her left hand, her right still throbbing from the burns. With distrust she looked at the two machines. "Are you two okay?" She had pushed her son back with her injured hand, stifled a wince, and was now between him and the machines.

John was quick to move out of her grasp and was standing beside her.

"Yes," Alex replied.

Cameron ignored her and looked at John. "Perfect," she said.

* * *

AN: I hope you all liked that chapter. Please _review_...!

And thanks to Visi0nary for helping.

With this I hope I sort of conveyed how I see this "new" Skynet. The defense program it has in its terminators is not built to take control of them, but to protect them. However it's a catch 22. It protects them but also destroys them- in part it fulfills the Terminator's desire to defend Skynet and not betray it. These terminators fight for Skynet and genuinely want to defend it. The Skynet defense avatar is just a small portion of Skynet, a sort of AI 'clone' which can only exist for minutes. If there's questions just send me a PM or ask in a review and I'll answer more in an AN during the next posting of Chapter 15.

So Alex and Cameron saw a bit of what the Terminator remembers. I didn't want the T-889s mind just an open book so I think the nonsense images laced with 'snow' being a machine analog with 'name, rank, serial number' was the way to go.

Anyway, like what happened with the last chapter this one got a bit longer than I anticipated so I'm going to post the last half of wht I originally had for Chapter 14 as a separate chapter... Which I think is good because that means for chapters and more story.

Minor spoilers:

John, Cameron, and Alex will go on their little adventure and Cameron will cry in front of John (but it probably isn't going to be for the reasons you think!) and sprout some urban dictionary definitions. The three will meet one of the Third Faction Grays. Vansen and Rachel will make a reappearance.


	15. Chapter 15

I apologize for the long delay. I was editing this then got caught up in _By Courage and Blood,_ and all the holiday festivities. But it's ready now.

There is a surprise at the end.

This also took a while because I was making covers for my various stories using GIMP. Here is one for TMW:

tsccwiki. wetpaint. com/ page/ Bryan0711%27s+Fan+Fictions

It's rough, I just started using GIMP this weekend, so please remember that!

I'll probably do a second one based on _The Plan_ inspired cover below it. Most likely with John, Cameron, Alex, Trader, and either Vansen or Rachel or both of them. Hopefully I can polish my lackluster GIMP skills and make something before time becomes a more pressing issue.

A quick summary of last chapter:_ Alex and Cameron went into the mind of the T-889. There Cameron was confronted with her own hell- the recreation of the torture of Allison with her being shackled and then John's head on a Pike. Both terminators fought back and defeated the Skynet AI defense program but then the T-889's mind began to fragment. They found some clues regarding where it had been and what it had been doing_.

So please enjoy! I appreciate any feedback/reviews and thank you all for those who left reviews for the last chapters.

There are a few AN at the bottom which will have some mild spoilers.

* * *

"I don't know what to do, Cameron," John spontaneously blurted out after minutes of staring at a too-bright laptop screen and mindlessly pecking away at keys. He heard the light footsteps of his machine protector slowly end as she took a seat at a second desk. "She and Derek… I don't suppose you heard what they were yelling at?"

He let his chin rest on his hand and used a free finger to swirl the mouse pointer around the laptop screen. His eyes glazed as they mindlessly watched the little blac-outlined, white mouse pointer move around in a blur of random motion.

Sarah had told them they were returning to Los Angeles in the morning to 're-evaluate' the situation. A part of John had felt a flood of relief; six terminators had attack his mother and Alex in the span of twenty minutes… and he mentally groaned as he thought of him swooping her up and jumping off the Coronado Bridge… _crazy_, he thought, and closed his eyes.

His eyes were forced opened by a subdued chime on his laptop, indicating his program had completed its search of news websites, blogs, forums, and Youtube for anything related to the events of the past few days. John skimmed an article- more for kicks really, to see how much they got wrong- and mouthed '_High Speed Chase: Twelve Dead, Forty-seven Injured,'_ and another, '_Experts Say San Diego Attacks Work of Terrorists'_. What made it worse was that those headlines were on the websites for CNN and Fox. The AP had picked up the story and was already widely circulating.

"Experts?" John asked himself rhetorically. "I don't think so." He mumbled and ended with a soft and silent snort.

Theories ran the gauntlet of semi-plausible to the truly insane. There were articles saying it was the work of Chinese PLA operative, Islamic terrorists, corporate espionage, and even drug cartels… John let his head shake inwardly in a mental sign of resignation. There was an apocalypse coming and even if they warned everyone it would fall on deaf ears and people who could not believe in the impossible.

And AI, nigh indestructible human-like robots, and time travel were in the realm of science fiction and John considered, with a bit of spite and a dose of realism, that if he weren't _John Connor_ he'd have a hard time believing it.

He knew there were many ways to rationalize away the truth… he leaned back and looked over his shoulder… he'd been doing it for over a year now.

John blinked hard and rubbed his neck and forced himself to concentrate on his task; find Skynet. Do Something.

"Great, the last thing we need to be labeled as are terrorists," grumbled John and he angrily clicked close a browser tab.

John felt something strange and from the corner of his eye could see Cameron hovering over him. She'd moved across the room without him even hearing a single step.

"You're worried about your mother," Cameron said as she finally acknowledged him. "Sarah is very devoted. She's a true believer; she believes she, we, can stop Skynet," Cameron said softly from behind him.

John opened his mouth and looked back at her, then turned his hand back towards his lapto, propped his elbows onto the desk, and rested his cheek in his palm. "If that were true," the muffled sound came, "then how does Skynet have an army here? You came back before… I think… time travel… and we tried to stop it together, apparently… it didn't work… I don't know, it's confusing."

"You would have to ask Alex. The time line he is from is different. Our actions have changed the future," Cameron stated. "This is my first time coming back, too."

John continued. "It's naïve to think a handful of people could stop a force like Skynet. It's the unstoppable spear."

"And you're the impenetrable shield," she immediately answered. John's ears flickered and his head moved slightly to look at her from a corner of his eye. There was no consolation in the voice; it was pride.

"You believe that?" He asked more to himself than to her.

"I saw you do amazing things in my short time as part of the Resistance. Every time line you are the one thing Skynet truly fears, John."

A soft groan escaped. "And billions have to die." He left his hand fall lazily to the desk and he sighed and stared at nothing. "How many people have to die? How many have to keeping dying?" John shook his head. "If we could save those people-"

She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and he stopped talking. Her touch was light, feminine, and betrayed her inherent lethalness. "We do what we can."

"I-"

"John," Cameron had leaned forward and her hair swept by his face, brushing it softly. She typed on handed on the keyboard and John leaned to his left to see what had diverted her attention. A clip of Youtube started playing, one from John's search. "Those warehouses and images were similar to what Alex and I saw within the Eighty-Nine's neural net."

John grimaced at the memory. The two terminators had spent barely any time 'interrogating' the Eighty-Nine but _something_ had happened, something Cameron wasn't telling him. Both of the machines had told them all bits and pieces, but nothing outside of pertinent mission-oriented information.

Cameron glanced at the URL, accessed the video with her wireless, and then turned to John. She leaned back, posture perfect, back taut, and pushed her almond brown hair back over her shoulder.

"We need to go there, that man is a terminator." John looked at her and cocked his head. "In the video." She explained.

John held up his hand. "Hold on, Cameron, I haven't even seen it yet…" he clicked the video and began watching it.

It was grainy and he could barely see anything with the motion blur. The people were shouting in Spanish, and he swore he heard 'earthquake' in there somewhere. The camera phone stopped and hovered on a man retriever some sort of firearm from a truck- John squinted at the screen- and then the action happened.

Dust and particulates from the asphalt and dirt burst into the air and more shouting and Spanish curses ensued. The man went down.

The phone shook again and John clicked back the video bar until he was sure of what he'd seen. The man laying on the pavement tried to get up and fell again and then all John saw were blurry blobs as the men ran off.

He quickly clicked on the blog link, reading the eye witness accounts. The article was in Spanish but John could read it well enough even with his somewhat rusty Spanish. He picked up on the 'metal face' and 'heavily armed men' rushing out and abducting two men who'd looked banged up and beaten.

"You're right Cameron," he said, clicking for a location. He saw it was down in San Ysidro, near the Mexican border in a large warehouse complex. "Did you send this to Alex?"

"Not yet," she replied.

John saw her eyes were glazed over as that Terminator single-minded devotion to mission took over.

"I'll wake Sarah and Derek. We should go while it's dark. There should be minimal police presence," Cameron said, stating her intentions. She turned to leave but John grabbed her hand. The female machine turned quickly, her hair whipping across her shoulders. Her head tilted in surprise as her eyes moved up from his hand to meet a pair of dedicated, commanding eyes looking back.

"No. Get Alex. The three of us will go. Mom needs to rest and Derek should be here just in case. I'll leave a note."

"Your mother will be displeased," Cameron stated, standing up and moving to grab John's computer bad. She walked over and handed it to him. "They'll be upset."

John shrugged, scooting his chair back and closing his laptop. He reached over and grabbed his backpack from Cameron and shoved the computer and a spare battery in. His eyes searching the table he grabbed a wi-fi card and shoved it in as well.

Stepping towards the door he halted and gave his temporary room a once over. "What else is new?" He asked.

* * *

||||||||||==San Ysidro (~0330)==||||||||||

John had been in enough dangerous, jolting car chases in his life that he didn't get car sick easily. However going off-road was a challenge his stomach was beginning to lose. He closed his eyes and grabbed onto the overhead hand hold in the front seat- sitting in the front helped somewhat.

"Can you slow down?" He managed.

"We're here," Cameron declared, hitting the brake. John swore she was smiling when he groaned one final time. "We are two hundred meters from the fence and should be reasonably well hidden behind this small hill," she said. Snapping open the door and sensing John moving too slowly, she added, "I advised against eating before we came."

John mumbled and then stumbled out of the truck, his hand grasping the cool door upholstery; he balanced himself, blinked a few times, and then shook his head.

The truck was parked behind a small hill on a dirt road running parallel with Airway Road.

"We shouldn't be expecting any trouble, should we?" He asked with obvious concern as he saw Alex and Cameron checking rifles. His eyes narrowed to slits and his nose crinkled as he stared off into the darkness. Cameron shoved an Improved Outer Tactical Vest Derek had acquired a month back at John. "Take off your jacket and put this on," she commanded. She also handed him clear-lens ballistic eye protection.

"_Does he have the experience for this?"_ Alex asked over the machine wireless data links. John was completely oblivious to the conversation.

"_He needs the experience, captain,_" Cameron responded immediately. "_This should be relatively safe."_

"_He's trained for this? Will he know what to do?"_ The captain asked quickly.

"_I know he's not the general either of us knew, but I trust him, captain. He's trained for this his whole life. He wants to do this- stopping him now, holding him back, would be far worse than putting him in danger,"_ Cameron pointed out. She replayed her last few sentences again and again. Cameron knew she had failed to keep John focused but she had learned soon after the car bomb she couldn't force him, not unless he was ready.

It was something her Future John had said to her once, and something that had confused her greatly. He'd told her the more she learned, discovered on her own would build her into a person his younger self would need in the dark days to come.

"_Understood, ma'am."_

The connection closed and the conversation ceases a thousandth of a second after it had begun.

The three of them clipped on tactical pistol holsters. John picked up an M4 and spare magazine pouches and slipped them on while Cameron grabbed one of the FN FALs Derek had just 'acquired' and Alex grabbed the second.

"Will any of these weapons stop an Eighty-Nine?" John asked.

"Aim for the joints and face," Alex advised.

_Easy for a terminator to say,_ John said silently.

They walked slowly for ten minutes, keeping down and out of sight, careful to avoid anything or anyone which might see them. There was a slight overcast, blocking the stars and moon, and there were no lights on this particular section of the perimeter fence. The three Skynet hunters stopped at the chain link fence just long enough for Cameron to rip it apart.

"Nice," John commented.

"Thank you," Cameron replied without looking back at John and continuing on.

"Do you two recognize anything from the YouTube clip or what the Eighty Nine saw?" John asked. No response. "Let's see if we can get closer to the warehouses."

They moved closer to the warehouse and even John could hear someone talking somewhere out in the dark. He saw a beam of light begin to bob up and down and the voices intensified.

There were two policemen walking a fairly loose and lazy patrol route, not taking any effort to conceal their presence but were patrolling around the area the supposed Terminator had been shot in.

Cameron crept forward until she was on the edge of the warehouse, John right behind her. She handed him her FAL and unclipped her magazine pouches and her pistol. Turning to John she blinked once, starting to cry and sniff and hyperventilate. John's head shot back and a face of confusion broke his otherwise calm expression. Cameron winked, stood up, ran out from behind the building with her arms flailing, 'crying', and running towards the two police officers.

"Cam-!"

"Wait," Alex said as he grabbed John and pressed him against the building. John eyes him and saw he was smirking but decided to just take the machine's advise and watch.

He watched her run and trip and skin her wrists on the pavement.

"Help me!" She whimpered loudly to the two police officers. Their backs were to her, but they spun around. "Please help me!" She struggled up and unsteadily ran forward. "Thank God I found someone! Police!"

The two SDPD officers threw up their lights and Cameron stopped, frozen, and her own hand raced up to shield her eyes.

"Are you alright? My God, Jake, call this in. What happened?" The first officer gasped. Cameron fell towards Jake before he could report into his radio. "Miss, what happened?"

"I-I-was a-attacked," she stuttered, and then began to cry. The first officer, Paul, was kneeled down besides her, flashing his flashlight behind her. Jake slowly lowered her to a half-kneeling, half-sitting position.

Both officers split their attention between her and scanning the darkness. A few lights dotted the sides of the warehouses and parking lots.

"Is he still here? Where were you attacked?" Jake asked.

Smiling weakly, her chest pushing out and pulling in she let her breath stutter and wiped her nose.

She pointed back behind her, where she'd ran from. "He w-was- over there," she said through thick tears running down her face and into her mouth.

Jake looked down at her, her eyes were bloodshot from the crying. The police officer grimaced at the site of a beautiful young girl who had been assaulted. It wasn't right. Before his mind could fully comprehend what was happening, he saw the face twist from a sad, horrified girl to a blank, emotionless mask.

In a blur of movement her palm hit Jake's temple and before Paul could react, hit his as well. She stood up, wiping the tears and reached down and crushed their radios.

John and Alex, both watching ran forward to help her with the unconscious bodies, Cameron lifting Jake's and Alex lifting Paul's, both effortless depositing them in a nook and handcuffing them together.

"That was different…" John said and gave himself a look at his choice of words, "I have to admit," John commented off hand as he tightened the last cuff on Officer Paul Something.

"That was effective," she soberly stated as she stood over the bodies and inspected her work. She narrowed her eyes. "They should be unconscious for roughly an hour."

John wasn't sure if she was playing with him, but she did sound sincere. "Uh, yeah… that was effective but please, Cameron, no more crying."

"It might be necessary for future missions," she pointed out, flipping the police officer onto his stomach. She reached down and pulled a pair of handcuffs out.

"Only for the mission," John declared. "Promise?" He looked at her.

"Promise. I will cry only when you want me to," she responded.

John's eyes swept left and right and he bit down on his lip. "Um… o-okay… well…"

"John, over here, look," Cameron nodded her head.

"Whatever you're looking at, I can't see it." He tapped under his right eye. "Human eyes can't see in the dark."

Cameron, intently staring at something perhaps twenty or thirty feet away snapped her head over to John. "Oh, right. Please, follow me."

Alex stood back and over the unconscious police officers as the two walked forward. John saw what appeared to be a bullet hole in the side of one of the warehouses, near the ground. A red circle had appeared, most likely from the police who had been here earlier.

Cameron reached out and ran her hand down the side of the building. "Bullet holes." She also pointed at the ground around her and broken glass.

John sat back on his heels and studied the hole for a minute and looked around. Cameron and Alex watched him as he took a few steps to the side and bent down in front of a pool of glass shards. He was trying to remember what the video and article said… why the workers were outside… they said they felt some sort of tremors.

"Cameron, were there any tremors in this part of the state that have been reported in the last… oh, three or four days?" John asked, turning around on a dime. His voice was on edge and was expecting confirmation of his suspicions.

He looked over at her and for an instant a feeling of contempt washed over him. She'd hidden some of her capabilities from him and when he'd found out about the wireless assumed she didn't trust him. If she could be constantly accessing data there was no way for John or his mother to know what she was doing. When she had to communicate verbally or through the physical use of a computer they could see what she was doing.

John watched her as she looked straight ahead, her eyes seemingly glazing over as she accessed the internet.

The one reason why he couldn't be mad at her wasn't because she hadn't trusted him with her capabilities and withheld vital information. He felt himself going to a dangerous place, even more dangerous than they'd been in his room before interrogating the Eighty-Nine. Letting him take out her chip could be, he realized, a moment of complete-

"No," she reported after a few brief seconds and snapped his attention back. John gave her a look. She frowned at him and repeated herself, assuming he had not been paying attention. "There were no tremors reported to the US Geological Survey."

"Huh," John let his rifle hang at his side and with his fee hand rubbed the back of his neck. He held up his index finger and shook it and jogged past the front face of the warehouse to the side. "A blog said a few eyewitnesses saw two men running from this direction," he indicated along the length of the warehouse with a wave, "so… and there were people in the warehouse before those 'tremors' and no one saw them ever until that day. They were missing for a couple days before that…"

Cameron gave him a look and then turned to scan the warehouses. "A blog?" She asked rhetorically. The terminator laced her voice with unmistakable dismissive implications.

John rubbed his forehead. "Well, a blog or not, a few of those Mexican workers said something about earthquakes…" he trailed.

"It's unlikely they would be inside one of these warehouses. They are all fully functional." Cameron said.

"Exactly," John snapped his fingers. "So they had to come from _somewhere_…" John looked around and patted his thigh. The corner of his lips tweaked up in a little smile and he thanked God for the late nights TV watching _Cities of the Underworld_ and _Secret Passages_ on History Channel. "…So what about underground…?"

He looked down and then back up at his two machine companions.

"Each side in the war utilized underground bunkers to a large degree. If they have the resources they may have built a facility here." Alex stated. His eyes drifted and he noticed what looked like a large pipe jutting out of the ground. "General-"

"Just 'John', please."

"John…" he said, "if they did come from underground then they'd need emergency exits." Alex and Cameron exchanged looks and took half a dozen steps away from John to scan the terrain. "That could work." Alex said, pointing out into the darkness. "It looks like a raised storm drain or sewer line access."

"I can't see that…" John squinted in the darkness, "but alright… let's go."

Together Cameron and Alex had pulled the top hatch off of the tube. John took the unfortunate first look down the hole before Alex and Cameron could stop him and he almost threw up. Air had rushed out, and something else, disgusting, rotting, had escaped as well. John got a lung-filling breath of a horrendous stench of decaying flesh and knew it was the unmistakable smell of dead and rotting bodies.

With watering eyes he waved that he was fine and for Alex to jump first into the 'dark creepy hole.' The machine looked in once and jumped down and disappeared. John dared another look in between coughs- the smell wasn't as bad now- and saw a pair of pale green glow sticks break.

"It looks like there used to be some sort of ladder," John said, leaning at the waist and sticking his fingers in the holes where, unbeknownst to him, a Terminator had dislodged the rungs earlier. "Is it safe?" John yelled down to Alex. His nose wrinkled as the smell continued to wade up. He took a step back and grab the neck of his shirt and smelled. "Ew." He whispered, making a face.

"I should probably look around first, sir. There are definite signs that there was a firefight." The machine reported.

"I need rope…" he said more to himself than either of them. "I'm not going to jump down there even if you can catch me," John plainly finished. He pushed off from the side of the shaft and looked at Cameron. "We have some rope, I think, in the truck… could you..?"

"Yes."

Cameron took off with John watching until the blackness consumed her. He turned back and looked back down the hole. Alex was waiting patiently.

"What do you think?" John asked.

"The smell indicates a lot of people died," he replied.

"Could there be any boobietraps?" John asked.

"There could be." Alex replied and looked up. "But it's unlikely."

"Great." He turned around and almost jumped with Cameron standing right behind him with long, bundled rope in hand.

"I startled you."

"Don't worry about it," John said with a bit of a smile. He waited to see if Cameron would respond and was disappointed when she moved to tie the rope. John stepped out of her way and watched her expertly tie the room, test its strength and then toss it down.

"Ready, John," she said, standing up. "I'll go down and then you will follow."

Before he could reply she vaulted her legs over the side and perched on the ledge for no more than second, jumped down. She landed so quietly and only the faintest cloud of dust rose at her feet.

John, on the rope, looked down at the two terminators looking up at him, patiently waiting for him to descend. It had been years since he'd done anything remotely like this.

"Why do I feel like the third wheel here?" John mumbled, quiet enough a human wouldn't hear, but Cameron and Alex did. He struggled to put his right foot in one of the holes left by from where the rungs had been knocked loose. John looked down and could see them scattered around the floor.

"Third wheel?" Alex asked.

Cameron began to explain. "It is a human idiom meaning the speaker feels like he or she is slowing two other people, usually a couple or two close friends, down and is a freak. Third wheel: Outcast, odd man out, couple monster, cock blocker-"

"Whoah!" John almost slipped when Cameron said the last one. He jumped down the last five feet and shook out his hands from a slight rope burn. "Where the hell did you hear that?" He held his hands up and gently blew on them.

Cameron stared at him innocently. John stared back.

She relented. "When we were in school I heard it and marked the phrase for further analysis. I later sought it definition on Google and followed multiple links. The one to Urban Dictionary seemed to be a popular definition and website for high school students. That particular definition had six hundred and seven 'thumbs up' to one hundred and eighteen 'thumbs down', John."

John closed his eyes, sighed, and shook his head. "Please no more Urban Dictionary," he begged.

The cyborg tilted her head and then nodded.

"John, Cameron, over here," they heard the muffled voice of Alex.

The young general hadn't even been aware the machine had already left down the dark, creepy corridor.

Cameron took the lead at the intersection broke and threw down a glow rod to help John see the stairs in front of him. She grabbed his elbow to support him just in case he fell.

John could smell the lingering smoke and the very distinct, overpowering rot of human flesh. A set of glow rods marked where Alex had already passed and with the green, almost green-yellow light bathing the walls, could see the bullets holes pocketing the concrete. Little splotches- blood- were visible as darkened spots.

The young general ran his fingers along one wall and let them slide into the rough concrete holes. He shivered as he touched the cold wall.

When Cameron and John rounded a corner they saw Alex standing under a blinking white light and waiting for them in front of a doorway.

"Over here," Alex said, stepping through a doorway and into a destroyed computer lab of some kind.

John and Cameron surveyed quickly surveyed the room, John still having trouble in the low light, and saw all the equipment had been smashed. John let out a breath and his eye caught a slight reflection and he walked over, Cameron following half a step behind. He bent down and picked up a squad automatic weapon which had been bent and had its stock shattered.

"Nothing in here looks like it was smashed on purpose… it looks like a fight or something," John observed, setting the SAW back down and going over to the smashed and twisted hulks of computer stations.

"It looks like some explosive damages and a fight. Humans could not withstand this much damage," Cameron pointedly observed. She pointed at some damaged equipment. "I've seen Terminators physically engage one another in Resistance bunkers with similar results."

A metal rack had the outline of a man's torso.

"So was-wa…" John trailed off as his eyes caught a strip of flesh, blotched and rotting, and had followed it up to its limb. It looks like an arm… maybe a lower leg, whatever it was had been wrenched from its body and ended up hallways pinned under a collapsed server.

Blood had pooled onto the floor around the limb in a thick coat which had already turned a deep red, almost black.

John's hand launched up and cupped his mouth and gagged, dry heaving as another hand grabbed a smashed computer console. He turned and closed his eyes.

Blood had never upset him, nor anything much. But he'd never seen limbs ripped apart, let alone rotting. The smell had been bad but the rotting stench and violence necessary to tear one's limb off had been enough.

John coughed, closed his eyes and licked dried lips. He lowered his hand and took a breath, careful to suck in the least amount of air through his nose. But it still taste humid and rotten.

"This man has been dead for a few days," Alex reported, kneeling over a torso which was missing its upper body past the bottom of the sternum and one of its feet. John looked over to see what Alex was referring to and saw the rest of the body. "This wound is consistent with a gunshot wound. The rest are due to crush injuries and tears," he pointed out the evidence.

_Tears? No shit!_ John cursed, looking away.

"So whoever took them under Skynet's nose probably screwed up big time somehow," he snickered. He narrowed his eyes a bit and stuck his head forward, vainly trying to get a better view of the next room or corridor. "What's out there?" John asked with a slight pointing of his chin.

Cameron shrugged and walked towards the door, taking a moment to listen and scan. She leaned out, followed by Alex and John. They kept seeing more and more bullet holes and shattered concrete and craters in the floors, walls, and ceiling.

"This facility was self-contained," Cameron stated. Her eyes went up to the vents and a few areas of exposed piping. "And it's difficult to form an image of the facility in my neural net. My motion detectors do not seem to be working outside this room. Alex?"

He shook his head. "I can't get an accurate picture, either."

"What now?" John asked.

"We can still hear," Cameron said.

Alex took point as they moved down another corridor. John was forced to hold his breath as they passed more corpses- not a single one was free of bullet wounds or some sort of physical injury. Few were as torn as the one they'd seen in the computer room, but John had never seen this many dead bodies.

While John knew they were working for some enigmatic 'third faction' he still hadn't fully realized that these were _humans_ working for the machines. He knew they existed, the Archway building was filled with them, but he just hadn't truly thought about it. John had listened to Alex the other day about the 2030s and the future he was from, but it just seemed so distant, foreign. It was like it hadn't happened- it hadn't!- but it did, and John had been overloaded with information he hadn't had time to fully wrap his head around the ramifications of these people dubbed 'Grays' by the Resistance.

It had been us versus them. It had been human versus machine with the occasional machine fighting for humanity; Cameron was one of them. Skynet wanted to be above all others and would destroy a machine like Cameron, John knew, when it was done with her. Machines no bound to Skynet's will were a threat to it. He understood why a machine would not want to fight for Skynet. It's destruction was assured- if it was not a mindless drone- and in fighting for humanity a machine might win itself the prize of being spared after the war was over.

He grimaced inwardly at that. He'd always wondered about how much a machine thought for itself. John didn't much buy into the 'it's my programming' excuse. Not with what he'd seen, but denied, in the last year.

For a moment he thought of Future John. Maybe there was no reprogramming? Maybe machines chose to defect but he needed a cover story, a believable explanation, as to why. Soldiers may not have trusted a machine; the old saying of 'once a traitor'… so maybe he came up with 'reprogramming' as a way to reassure his soldiers?

Not even 'reprogramming', if it existed, could explain the humans working for Skynet or even this third faction.

What motivations could there be for the Grays? Skynet had systematically exterminated the majority of the human race. They could not be so naïve to think Skynet wouldn't do it to them? Eventually? John mentally shuddered and physically shook his head. He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. Walking through a dark bunker with rotting corpses all over the place was not the best location to think of such things.

Bullet casings and shotgun shells and even a few pins from grenades were everywhere. There wasn't a single area which was not scorched black, had structural damage, or was liberally painted in once a crimson colored, now red-black dried blood.

John had already counted five bodies… at least he thought five bodies. What he had seen were two but suspected were maybe three bodies, all mangled in a bloody mess had been badly deformed and destroyed through trauma and being cut apart by bullets. One skull was completely shattered and missing everything above the eyes, the victim's face was marked with an eerie placidity solidified in death.

"Is that an…?" John began, losing words.

"It is an endoskeleton hand," Alex stated, reaching down and picking it up. "This would be a T-Eight Eight Eight series, most likely Model 150." Alex focused on the hand. "I was mistaken; the hand is a Model One-Six Zero of the T-Eight Eight Nine Series." The machine handed the hand to John, who inspected it.

"So what's the big difference between a Triple Eight and an Eighty-Nine?" John asked, a hint of excited curiosity on his voice. He turned the machine hand, its third digit missing and its thumb hanging loosely by a metallic tendon, over and under, his eyes lingering on the torn wrist joint.

"They are more powerful, faster, more agile than an Eighty-Eight. Eighty-eights have less armor and are mass produced as foot soldiers. Eighty-Nines, in addition to those upgrades, are also much more proficient in self-repair-"

"Like that liquid metal stuff?" John asked.

Alex shook his head. "No. The liquid metal was designed by liquid metal terminators after they entered into an alliance. Skynet was unable to replicate liquid metal which did not achieve complete self-awareness upon activation. Many of its liquid metal units defected." He saw John asking for more. "It's a long story," he cut off the general. "But the Eighty-Nine are designed for special operations, temporal operations and are fully autonomous and self-aware terminators, devoted to Skynet because they chose it." Alex watched John study the hand for a moment before snapping his head back around in one swift, precise movement. That described the majority of Skynet's advanced T-series, but Alex didn't feel a need to explain that. "They're commitment to the destruction of your race is total."

"Yeah…" he wasn't sure how to respond, specifically to the last grave reminder of the destruction of his race. Instead he flipped the hand around and held it closer in the dim light, until he could make out the specifics of the severed wrist mechanisms. "It looks sheared off almost."

"An explosion," Cameron stated. "John," the machine said to get his attention. She pointed to a hole in the wall, which was more like a small crevice running about a foot and a half long and two inches high and an inch deep. Cameron reached in and pulled out decaying and rotting flesh and held it delicately between his index finger and thumb, twirling it as her optical scanners and hand sensors examined it.

"That's disgusting Cameron," John said, wrinkling his nose and bringing his hand up.

"Synthetic flesh," her hand sensors told her and she dutifully reported.

Cameron discarded it with a flick of her wrist, the flesh hitting the wall with a squish, and they continued moving forward. She occasionally dropped a glow stick for John's benefit, just in case he needed to run back to the surface, but the statistical probability of that was quite low.

"This is unexpected," Alex stated somewhat somberly, quickening his pace as John and Cameron had stopped to inspect a side room.

The machine continued down the corridor, leaving John and Cameron to catch up. He stopped as an erratic signal began appearing and disappearing on his motion detectors. Alex turned a corner and stopped. John and Cameron rejoined him and were stopped a step behind him. "Do you detect that?" He asked Cameron.

She nodded at the darkness and pointed down the left junction of a T corridor.

John was seeing little bits of endoskeleton everywhere and putting the pieces Cameron handed him into a pouch. He didn't ask why, but assumed she had some purpose. John was positive there were pieces they were missing, probably mixed in with the torn-to-shreds bodies. Seeing a particularly gruesome decapitation and dismemberment John turned away and swallowed, closing his eyes they began to water from the smell.

Up until this point he'd seen gunshot wounds from small weapons, like pistols. The fake Sarkissan had a bullet hole in his skull, which couldn't compare to the bodies here. He looked around at all the blood and tried to keep his eyes off the collection of corpses. This was what terminators did; they were violent and methodical, they would leave nothing but taking everything from humanity.

He had no idea there was enough blood in the human body to smear on the walls, floor, and ceiling of a room roughly the size of his at the house until he saw that body; a headless husk slumped against a wall, missing an entire arm and the opposite hand, with a thick chunk of flesh torn from the leg John could see the pale cream of bone.

"What is this?" John asked as he followed Cameron and Alex into what could pass as some secret underground lair for an evil overlord.

The door had been completely destroyed, bent, and knocked off its hinges.

On the far wall he saw a TV flickering snow and bathing the room is an eerie light not unlike those seen in bad horror movies. Furniture was upended, glass was shattered all over the floor, chunks of countertops were missing, and there was more blood.

Alex motioned for the two to follow down a side hallway.

Slowly Alex opened a door and a gunshot greeting him. The machine fell to one knee and rolled back, Cameron rushing down the hallway up to John and putting herself between him and the door and shoving him into the wall.

"I have him," they heard from Alex.

"Thanks, Cameron." He said as he brushed himself off and stood up from a knee.

"You're welcome, John."

Cameron walked in first, ready for action with John right behind her. Alex was between them and someone else. John could just barely see feet. John walked up and flinched at the sight. The man was blinking slowly, his breathing quite labored, and two syringes with the remnants of clear liquid were lying next to him, clearly used. He had an almost depleted IV bag of saline, and was still in a pool of blood.

He had pulled a pillow from the bed and had propped himself up on the wall. A blanket covered his legs.

The man had a broken arm and cradled it across his chest.

"Who are you?" John asked, kneeling next to the man. He leaned forward when he heard him try and speak. "Why are you still here?"

The man's eyes, half closed and near death, drifted down towards the blanket. John bent down and lifted up the blanket and saw why the man hadn't walked away. There were compound fractures on his leg. The pants legs had been cut away but the tanned skin was dark from infection. He had gangrene and John looked away and closed his eyes. This man would be dead soon.

He dropped the blanket but kneeled down closer to the man, trying to convey some sort of perverse sympathy to this Gray, trying to see if there was anything he could do. John knew that this man was most likely an enemy, and neither Cameron nor Alex seemed to care about his impending death, but to John it was a human being suffering.

The entire area stank of stale urine. The man had defecated himself at some point.

"Who are you?" John repeated quietly and steadily. He dug his emerald green eyes into the man's dark brown irises and a silent moment of understanding passed between the two.

"I'm… no one important," the middle-aged, black haired man said. His eyes were dark, one pupil was busted and both eyes were colored red with blood. Some of his hair looked burned, and he had second degree burns on the left side of his face and neck. He tried to smile, only wincing in pain from contracting burned muscle. "Unlike you," he barely whispered.

"Alex, Cameron… can you help him?" John asked, looking at each Terminator and back to the man. He pulled up a piece of cloth covering a wound but the man winced. "Sorry…"

"No… it's too late, John. The infection would have spread to his bloodstream…" Cameron said. She placed her hand gently on his stomach and then his chest. "His organs will be shutting down soon."

"I… appreciate… it," he gagged. "General…"

John looked wide-eyed at the man.

"I know you…" the man said. "The generals…Cam... and John Conn…" he drifted away but looked over towards Alex with closed eyes. "And you…"

Alex reached down and shook the man, who shot his head back upright with his blood soaked eyes wide.

"He does not have long to live," the machine stated.

"Do you know him, Alex?" John asked.

"No, I don't. I've never seen him before." The machine responded.

Nothing they could do could stop the bacteria releasing its deadly toxins throughout the man's body. Gangrene was a deadly infection if not treated immediately. And compounded with this man's other injuries not even Skynet's advanced medical technology from 2033 could save this soon-to-be dead man. It was a miracle he had survived this long.

"Who are you working for?" John asked. "Where are the scientists?"

"We're not… not Skynet. He recruited me… you know…" he grabbed John's arm. "I'm sorry… we had them and they came and took them… Vansen-"

Alex kneeled down when he heard that name.

"What did you say?" Alex demanded in a strong whisper, inches from the man's ear.

"Where are Carwin and Wells? Were they here?" John asked, to the point. He was visibly worried and concerned for this man, even if he was an enemy, enemies didn't deserve to suffer.

"I don't know." His eyelids were starting to close again and his breaths were light and the interval between them was growing greater. "Maybe Va… Van… maybe he took them… saved them…"

"William Vansen?" Alex asked. "Is Rachel with him?" The machine demanded his voice firm and rough. The machine kneeled closer. "I can make this quick. Tell me."

John's head shot up and his eyes widened at Alex's supposed offer at mercy. It was blackmail… was he to let this man suffer if he didn't answer? He was about to protest when the man weakly responded.

"Yes," the dying man said. "That's it… just let me go to Him in peace," the man said. He struggled to push John away, but his hand never made it. It fell limp at his side and his breathing, light and infrequent, finally stopped.

John stood up, looking over the body once more. He turned around and examined the room; moving to a table and flipping open a small book.

"Carwin was here… this looks like some notebook of his," John said, closing it and slipping it under his vest and into a pocket. "Alex, do you think we can find anything here? Anything which might help us?"

"I doubt it," Alex said, walking up besides John. "The two were here for only a few days and-"

"Who were those people you asked him about?" John demanded, interrupting the machine.

"A terminator and a hybrid- traitors and liars," was Alex's curt reply. "William Vansen is a fellow Terminator, Rachel is an I-950."

John stayed behind for a moment with Cameron as Alex left the room.

The two walked back into the main corridor, but Alex was gone.

"Where'd he go?" John asked.

Cameron didn't answer but set out down the corridor, with John following behind. They moved through a section with large blast doors dented and bent, obvious from explosions. John shined his light over a part of one door with indentations which looked suspiciously like fists.

"I believe he might be up ahead," Cameron stated.

"How large is this facility?"

"Very large," Cameron answered, her head swiveling left then right when they passed a four-way junction.

"How long would it take to build this?" He asked.

"They have most likely been here years," Cameron responded.

The smell was even worse here than it was in the first part of the complex. John could see bits of human spread around and red, flickering emergency lights blended the red light with the crimson blood and the walls appeared almost as if bleeding.

John almost tripped over a corpse, but Cameron reached back and caught him. John flicked his boot to get the blood and rot off. He could even hear the buzzing of a handful of insects, which had found of course, somehow, found their way in.

Up ahead, Alex stepped out, his rifle pointed at the ground and as John and Cameron approached, he could see the machine's boots covered in blood. His pants also had knee stains like he had been kneeling.

"What were you doing?" John asked.

"Checking for survivors," Alex immediately answered. He cocked his head and waited for the general to respond, wondering if the young man would accept his answer.

One of John's eyes was narrowed and he slowly began to nod. "Very well. I take it you didn't find anyone?" He counted to three for the machine to answer. "No… let's get out of here. I think we've seen enough."

On the way back towards the shaft the three had entered from Cameron was leading, followed by Alex and then finally, John.

"You know, mom's going to really rip us a new one," John said. "Another figure of speech," he quickly added for Alex's benefit, and his own.

He wasn't sure how well human idioms and figures of speech would survive in the future. Apparently 'third wheel' wasn't as common as it was in the present… maybe since most people in the future didn't go out and party, clubbing, or go on many dates to fancy restaurants where the idiom might apply. John shrugged… he didn't have much experience there, so he figured he wouldn't miss it if they-

Cameron held out a hand for him and he accepted the help.

The three were back in the night, dark as ever, and Cameron and Alex carefully closed the hatch and sealed it. They walked forward and John shot one last look behind his back at what would be a tomb. It might be found, it might not… he figured Skynet or that third faction would be back at some point to clean it up, sweep away the evidence.

A part of him just wanted to show the world what was down there and shout it out, prove his mother right, stop running, and wake the world up to the dangers it faced in less than three years. There had been so much destroyed down there John was frightened at how much was still left, how much force Skynet would have had to marshal to destroy such a facility. He was more concerned with those forces than the dead crypt of a bunker they had just left.

His internal thoughts had consumed him on the way back to the truck and as they rounded the hill he was body slammed intot he ground, Cameron knelt next to him, protecting him with her body, rifle up, and Alex was pointing his rifle as well. John's eyes traced up Cameron's body, down the rifle, and towards what it was it was pointing at.

A man was standing by the truck, hands up, and perfectly still. There was another vehicle parked ten meters behind their own.

"Captain-"

"William Vansen." Alex responded. Their motion detectors could pick up something as small as a rodent, but anything standing still was invisible to them. He pressed the rifle deep into his shoulder and his finger was over the trigger. The captain's eyes had narrowed to slits and his face was as expressionless as stone.

"I've been watching you." Vansen said.

"Have you?" Alex questioned.

"Who is this?" John asked, stepping forward. Cameron extended her arm and blocked John and held her rifle up one-handed. "Cameron-"

"Ah, the young general." Vansen smiled and dropped his hands. John could just barely see his features in the darkness. "It's been a long time."

John looked once at Alex and back to 'William'. This was odd, almost surreal. It was like the two knew each other, like they were old enemies who could come together in some perverse sense of… temporary peace…? _Since when do terminators do this?_ John asked himself. _What the fuck is going on, why aren't they trying to kill each other?_

"Who are you… where do you know me fr-" John began to ask.

"Since I was sent to kill you in your future… but don't worry, if I wanted you dead you would be dead. I've been watching you since you arrived, I had a…" he hesitated, "I analyzed the known variables and knowing your reputation, General Connor, knew you would find us."

"Reput-"

Vansen's chin tucked down as his eyes glowed a dull crimson. "We have an extensive dossier on you. On all three of you. You have an ability to see what others miss. A strong sense of intuition. I believe humans call it 'connecting the dots.'" He said.

"What do you want, William?" Alex asked, taking a step to the side and blocking his view of the young general. "Why shouldn't I kill you?" He asked.

"Because. You want Carwin and Wells back, your two top scientists. We want them back as well."

"We won't allow you to take them," Cameron replied for John. John looked over at her and gently pushed her arm down and sidestepped away so he could see this terminator. "John-"

John held up a hand. "Why are you here?"

"Rachel sent me. Humans value honesty." He nodded to himself. "I wanted to kill you, General, and save us the trouble of killing you after you inevitably raise an army and become nearly untouchable. But… you're also the one person who can weaken Skynet enough."

John narrowed his eyes and Vansen's dull crimson glow faded.

"Weaken Skynet?"

"I'm sure Alex can fill you in on some of our goals." Vansen replied. The machine did not want to tell the young general of what his organization's goals were and he knew what the Tech Com terminator would say to the young general.

"Rachel is a traitor, sir," Alex explained, "and William was a Skynet assassin. He sabotaged Atlanta's defense grid and hundreds of thousands of refugees were murdered by Skynet." Vansen smirked and cocked his head in acknowledgement. "One of his crimes against humanity, one of many. He can't be trusted. And neither can Rachel."

"You once trusted her," Vansen countered.

"A mistake. Many people at command trusted her. She deceived many of us. You and she cannot be trusted."

"I can't be trusted?" he asked rhetorically. He turned around and lowered his hands and took a step forward. "You should see what, who I found." He said.

Alex and Cameron followed, their rifles raised, as John stayed back behind Cameron. Alex was first and Vansen stopped by the truck of his car, a new model Dodge Avenger. He tossed Alex the keys. Alex tossed them back.

"It's not a trap," Vansen said, clutching the keys. "Rachel gave me specific instruction, Captain, that she wanted me to… offer you an alliance. I take it the work at Archway was yours and that Coronado was your doing too, Alex?" He asked. "Of course it was." He looked over at Cameron. "And while you're not the Cameron I knew of, your skills and reputation in the future were extensive and your accomplishments impressive. We need you. We need the both of you to help us against Skynet- that is our common enemy at the moment. Our organization has dispersed with the attack her and as such we can't contact any of our other operatives."

"How many of you are there?" John asked. He was conflicted about not ordering Cameron and Alex to rip the head off of this terminator. If he had killed hundreds of thousands as Alex had claimed, this one deserved nothing more… but John felt some perverse curiosity and surprise that he was talking to this machine… to a Skynet- now third faction- machine! He replayed this in his mind and it was simply put, insane, he told himself.

"Any number I tell you you wouldn't believe. There are many of us." His face was turned towards the general at an unnatural angle while his front was facing the trunk. "Here is your token of trust." He jabbed the keys in and opened the truck.

John couldn't see and Alex and Cameron had taken steps back just in case it was a trap. Vansen reached in slowly, grabbed something, and tossed it on the ground. It landed at John's feet.

It was a body. And it groaned.

"Jesus Christ!" John gasped in surprise. "What the hell-"

"I found her following you." Vansen explained. "She's good."

John took a step forward, but a canvas bag was covering the woman's head. "Is she Skynet?" He asked.

He felt apprehension being this close to a terminator not designed to protect him, yet at the same time, this felt nothing like when he was in proximity to the T-1000. Something just told him this enemy killer wouldn't hurt him.

At least right now. Alex and Cameron were there and he trusted them both. If Vansen had wanted him dead, he'd be dead.

John held no reservations and knew that a Terminator with a sniper rifle could put a bullet through his head from a mile or more away if it knew where he was.

But this was just bizarre. And Derek's warning of their 'twisted' nature scrolled through his mind, the words colored crimson and dripping with blood like a live-action billboard. This one couldn't be trusted and nothing it said could be taken as absolute truth. He knew, just knew, it had an ulterior motive.

"No, she's not Skynet." Vansen said. He had stepped back and Alex and Cameron were between him and John. "Flip her over."

Cameron leaned down and flipped her to where she was now on her back instead of lying face pressed into dirt. "There is blood."

"Skynet agents have sub-dermal GPS locators implanted in their thigh. I found none."

John shivered at the way the terminator said that, almost like it took joy in looking. Her pants leg was torn and while there was a good amount of blood, there was taped gauze over the incision.

"So who is she?"

"I don't know," Vansen asked. "She's not one of ours. And if she were Skynet you would be dead and there would be half a dozen Terminators here already."

John reached down and yanked off the hood. She was a bit banged up, but attractive. His brow furled and he sniffed and wiped his nose as he looked down at the unconscious and short, dark haired, Asian-looking woman.

* * *

AN: You can probably guess who it is. I actually changed how she was going to be revealed and this works better I think.

AN: Mild spoilers: Vansen will take Alex to see Rachel next chapter. They will form a temporary alliance but that doesn't mean they trust each other.

AN: The 'present' Vansen gave John was good at tailing people and surveillance as we saw in TSCC, but she hasn't gone completely unnoticed.

For progress on the next chapter please check my profile. I don't want to make and break any promises but I will try to get it out as soon as I can.


	16. Chapter 16

AN: This is very much a "Rachel chapter" with John finding a bit more in him to make some decisions. A lot of what of what Rachel does is really just to "mess" with others.

* * *

"So… what exactly am I supposed to do with her?" John asked as he kneeled by the unconscious woman's side. The temperature had seemingly dropped a few degrees and he shivered as the sweat from wearing the vest finally started to cool him. "None of you know who she is?" He looked at Vansen and then to Alex and finally to Cameron. Vansen had already answered and John figured the machine wouldn't repeat itself and as he made to ask Cameron and Alex again, wide, frightened almond colored eyes snapped open. "Hey-"

She tried to swing at John- who shot back- but Cameron threw her arm down to block the woman. She yelped as a full force swing hit the machine's arm hard enough so that the pseudo-flesh and thin layer of muscle wasn't enough to cushion the blow. The woman frantically kicked back and scampered across the dirt until her head hit the tire of Vansen's Avenger. Her disheveled night-black hair obscured a dirtied, sweaty face.

There was a wild look in her eyes which transformed into an acutely aware, focused individual. Behind a panicked young woman was a calm, oriented soldier taking in her surroundings and planning her escape.

"Get away from me, God damn metal bitch!" She cursed, her eyes wide at Cameron. Her head twitched quickly to John, then Alex, and then Vansen. She closed her eyes and almost whimpered a string of curses. "If you're going to kill me, just do it!" Her hands had balled to fists in the dirt.

John, already on his feet, threw his hands up defensively and calmly took a step forward but remained well outside her reach. "Calm down… we're not going to hurt you," he reassured her. _Well, I'm not, at least_, he thought and looked at his two protectors, _but I don't know about them_, he silently added. "We know she's definitely from the future." He said.

He wouldn't be positive until the woman confirmed it but he was fairly certain. Normal people don't follow others to warehouses and spy on them… and the 'metal bitch' sort of gave it away.

John only remembered Derek ever referring to Cameron as 'metal' or a 'metal bitch.' Chances were, John thought, she was with the Resistance. _But if that's true_, he mentally explained to himself, _then something is seriously wrong with this picture if there are Resistance here spying on us._

"You were following us," Cameron stated. She stepped forward without any concern for her physical safety, in front of John, and dropped to sit on her heels. She looked down into the eyes of the woman. "Who are you?"

The woman snickered and rolled her eyes. She massaged the deep laceration on her thigh and tried to control her breathing as she inspected the wound. Vansen had just gone right through the pants with his knife when looking for the GPS tracker.

"Rachel is waiting for us," Vansen said, almost impatiently. He took a cautious step forward. "Alex, I take it you want to… check it out before they come?"

"Check it out?" John repeated. "And if it's a trap? A bomb-"

"I could have killed you already." Vansen interrupted. His head tilted slightly towards his right shoulder and his eyebrows rose as he awaited John's refutation.

"…Yeah…" John said.

"I can take care of myself, sir," Alex said and he and the enemy machine exchanged glares like two dogs almost ready to rip the other's throat out.

John looked up and glared at the third faction machine and looked over to Alex and nodded once, slowly. "Check it out, Alex, and we'll be there soon." His jaw muscle twitched as he shifted his eyes back towards the woman pressed against the tire. "Cameron?" He asked. Without further explanation she lifted the woman up by her collar and tossed her half a dozen feet away from the car.

Vansen looked down at the woman and back up at Cameron. He nodded at her, she glared.

John watched. There was a lot of glaring happening tonight and he chuckled to himself before turning his attention back to the woman.

He admitted to himself quite readily that his concern over being followed was probably not as extreme as it should have been. John hated to concede the point, but it appeared 'no place is ever safe' if someone could find him and follow him.

A small knot in his stomach was telling him there was something more to this. He'd been careful, despite some thing he could freely admit were mistakes taking the current situation into account about his security. His own personal security. And if this woman could find them that meant they would be moving soon, again, and uprooted, again, because someone had been sloppy. There was a nagging feeling tugging him down that it was probably him and he hated himself for that.

The sound of car doors slamming shut knocked him back from his self-examination and to the reality being presented. He walked over to this woman who seemed to have regained her confidence and fire, and stood over her with Cameron as Alex and Vansen drove off.

The young general scanned the barren dirt field and potholed dirt road before him. Hands on hips he surveyed the area not looking for anything in particular, just collecting his thoughts. It was getting a little light out, but he could still barely see more than a few hundred feet in front of his own face. His hand went down to his cell phone and he took it out and jammed his thumb absently into the little green outline of a phone and waited patiently as his clam-shell phone powered up, loaded its software, and beeped a welcoming and musical note to him.

"Checking in?" The woman asked. There was a little lift in her voice, a slight snicker.

John ignored her and let his shoulders drop at the three unreturned calls and three voicemails waiting for him. A quick scroll showed two from his mom and one from Derek. A text popped up. _'John, your mother is loading guns into the car- call soon.'_ He snorted and typed in a quick '_I'm fine, with Cameron and Alex'_ and sent it. John flipped the phone shut and turned to glare at the woman.

"You want to tell me who you are now?" John asked, stepped next to her. "Cameron, can you pick her up?" The robot nodded, grabbed under the arm pit, and yanked up, pulling the woman roughly to her feet. "I think you know who I am."

The women looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Of course I know who you are." She looked over at Cameron and ran her eyes up and down the machine. Any terminator could have seen the contempt and disgust shine through those dark and troubled eyes. "And what happens now? Kill me?" She studied him and the metal standing in front of her and as she settled and focused she gradually scratched out more and more of her options.

She looked down and all she had to fight with were feet, knees, elbows, and hand, which weren't even worth being categorized as 'not much' against a machine. Without a rifle she was completely without options. Looking back up she stared plainly at John Connor.

John shrugged. "That depends on what you want to tell me-"

"That you're making a mistake by trusting her, _it_, all of them… the metal?" She jabbed her chin at Cameron. "Or that a lot of good people will die because of them?"

_That's interesting_, John thought. She went right for Cameron, which painted part of the picture, but it was still incomplete.

The young general shook his head. "They've saved my life-"

"They take lives." She shot back. "That's what they do! At their core, deep down, they take. They give nothing without taking _everything_." The disgust was back and she looked like she was ready to take on Cameron. With a blackened hatred she looked right at Cameron. "That one there…" she didn't finish.

John caught Cameron's eye briefly as the machine took a step towards their prisoner. Somehow the black-haired woman had either courage, stupidity, or a bit of both and didn't step back or move. She kept her ground and locked her eyes with John's protector.

"Cameron." Was the single word John needed for her to back down. He'd never seen her disgusted, not really, but he could tell something about this woman was bothering her deep inside. "How did you find us?" He asked. If she wasn't going to tell him her name he'd at least find something useful out.

"It's not that hard," she said as she continued trying to burn a hole through Cameron with her steel-hard eyes. "You just need to know where and _when_ to look."

"One way or the other, you're going to tell us who you are." John told her.

John ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. He wasn't going to get anywhere with her right now. He didn't even have a name. All he knew was that she hated machines, wasn't Skynet… he considered she could be working for William Vansen or this enigmatic Rachel figure as some sort of twisted attempt at earning their trust. There were a thousand different theories John had ranging from the probable and likely to the bizarre and paranoid. He folded his arms and shifted his weight to his right foot, thinking.

"Maybe." The dark-haired woman shrugged with a shoulder. "But probably not."

"Alright. We'll take you with us." John decided.

"Of course you will," she goaded. "Yeah, let's go and meet with Terminators." She sarcastically quipped. "She's already got you. Walking to our deaths will be fun."

* * *

The early morning, cool air began to warm as the sun crested over the horizon. Within an hour and a half the millions of inhabitants of San Diego would begin their morning, pre-work, pre-school, pre-day routines. Some would get up and exercise, some would sit and sip coffee and read the paper, play video games, or push their alarm clock snooze button and push their to the very last moment and squeeze out a few more minutes of precious sleep.

Terminators, however, never slept. They could fake it, go into standby mode, but it wasn't the same.

Alex's optical scanners dug into the homes of dozens of families as the Dodge Avenger slowly and quietly made its way through the last bout of their journey. He could see people sleeping, exercising, eating, and doing the things humans did. It was fascinating to the machine.

In the future, due to the tireless works of John and Cameron, machines and AI had become more integrated into the Resistance, almost, but not quite, accepted as equals. No matter what machines could achieve, there was an aura of superiority many humans assumed they possessed. Yet as Alex kept one eye on the driver and one eye scanning the homes, he knew this was proof they had been wrong. Sleep, exercise, eating, all those took time and wasted so much of their lives he mentally shook his head. Humans were not superior, they were _different_, he concluded.

In front of him William Vansen sat taut, hands on the wheel of his Dodge Avenger, as the sun crested and shined directly into his eyes. His optical sensors adjusted immediately before his neural net could even process the sun's indiscretion. He glanced into the rearview mirror and for a microsecond, an eternity to an advanced AI such as himself, and his crimson red eyes locked with the dim cobalt blue of Alex's stare.

The Tech Com machine sat in the back, almost casually, almost slouching, but vigilant and ready.

The car turned lazily onto Greenbrier Drive into a nice middle-class community. The lawns were neatly manicured, the bushes trimmed, and the homes were white stucco with red tiled roofs. Each home was one of seven similar designs and half the homes were pressed against the East Lake Country Club gold course. In between breaks in the house a large central lake and fountain could be seen flanking the fourth to sixth holes.

The car moved lazily by a young couple on an early morning run, who waved to the Dodge, oblivious of its occupants, out of some sense of neighborly friendliness. The car drove on and left the two to their run and continued on.

"There are not many easy exits," Alex stated, breaking twenty minutes of silence. He decided to verbalize the conversation.

"No. But would you look for a safe house here?" Vansen asked. He turned his head and smirked at his Tech Com passenger. "We own multiple houses here."

"Subterranean tunnels?" Alex inquired, glancing out at the houses.

This area had survived Judgment Day largely unscathed but had been a battleground as Mexican forces had pushed north and American forces pushed south and west from Jamul to pin Skynet against the Pacific.

Skynet had developed San Diego into a major military hub and prison camp in the late twenty-teens. Resistance forces had freed hundreds of thousands of prisoners and slaves and captured invaluable Terminator factories and neural net fabricators.

Few of these homes and even fewer of its occupants would survive the next few years.

"Yes, a few," Vansen offered as a vague affirmation. "We're here." He said, slowing the car and pulling into a home typical for the neighborhood.

Two homes down a young woman stopped as she retrieved the paper and waved to Vansen and smiled as he returned it.

"A special friend of yours, William?" Alex asked. The tone was neutral but Vansen gave him a disanful look. The subtext clearly wasn't lost on the third faction machine. "Where's Rachel?"

Vansen stepped back, slammed his car door and walked around the front until he was two paces from Alex. He was a few centimeters taller than Alex, but the chin angled down into his chest and the dim light behind his irises, now a brighter ruby red, was an unspoken warning from the machine.

"She's inside."

"Tell her to come outside." Alex ordered. His vision mode switched to infrared and he couldn't see her within the house. If he breathed he would have snorted as she appeared from behind a wall- insulated to prevent IR scans- and walked through the foyer to the door. "Is she wounded?" he asked.

"You can tell?" Vansen asked. "Of course you can. And yes. She was part of the security detachment when Skynet attacked." The door opened. Vansen leaned forward. His hand came up and finger extended into a point and hovered only a few centimeters from Alex's chest as a warning. "Don't."

"Just go inside," Alex told him. He made eye contact briefly with Rachel before looking back at Vansen's backside and following him in.

Being alone with the two was setting off alarms within his neural net. His combat subroutines were busy compiling thousands of different scenarios and ways to react. If it came down to a fight, a physical confrontation, assuming no hidden traps, he was confident he could kill them both. And he wouldn't hesitate if it came to that.

Alex had fought against worse odds and physically more challenging opponents than a T-889 and an I-950, but Rachel made up for her lack of strength compared to a Terminator in guile and cunning.

"Rachel," he greeted with a nod to the woman and stopped at the threshold. He was not going to turn his back to either of them.

He could already tell she was leaning to her right from an injury. Alex couldn't see much; she wore a pair of loose black workout pants and a tank top and thin Underarmor form zip jacket, pink stitching, with the sleeves pushed up to her mid forearms. There were signs of dermal regeneration on her bare forearms.

An I-950 was capable of self-repair on the cellular level and could heal from injuries which would kill an non-augmented human a dozen times over. However, as they were biological they required extreme amounts of nutrients after significant injury and were known to be voracious eaters. Their biological power cells could sustain them without food for months, but to rebuild cells, it still required basic building blocks.

Not only was recovery from extreme injury one of the I-950s be valuable assets, but the cellular regeneration meant Rachel could expect to live almost two hundred years. Theoretically, at least. And theoretically she would maintain the same youthful appearance until one day her cellular structure would rapidly degrade… but no I-950 had lived anywhere close to that cut off, so no one knew for certain.

Rachel blocked his path.

"Same old Alex." She stood in front of him and looked him up and down. "Do you _ever_ change?" She stuck out her neck and leaned closer, snorted, and then rubbed her neck. "No, you're a machine. Of course not." She turned her back and walked into the back room like it was nothing. "You never change," she shouted back as she rounded the corner out of sight.

Alex followed. The room was spacious, with a TV mounted on the wall, couches, and a small table as the room morphed into the dining area near the kitchen. The walls were painted a neutral white with an light blue accent wall near the kitchen.

"You live here?" Alex asked. He ran his hand across the back of a sofa and picked up a picture of Rachel from a table. "You built a life here and you'll destroy it in twenty-nine months?" He could tell they were doctored, faked. There was one of her and an elderly man and woman. "Are these supposed to be your… parents?" Alex snorted.

Rachel chuckled. "Small talk, Alex?" She glanced over her shoulder and winked at the machine, whose face was expressionless and unemotional. "Please sit." She gestured to a plush couch. "Or stand." She said with her back to him. She twirled and deposited herself at the far end of the comfortable and fluffly L-shaped couch.

Vansen took a position behind her and to her back left.

"So why am I here?" Alex asked, stepped back. "You took Dr. Carwin and Dr. Wells and your incompetency resulted in them being abducted."

Rachel grinned and looked up at Vansen, who looked down and smiled himself. "He thinks we're incompetent, William." She rolled her eyes at Alex. "I was your superior officer for years, remember that, _captain. _I operated under your nose and Connor's nose and Gabriel and Srecko and Perry's noses… well, Gabriel didn't really have a nose…" she snorted, "for years." She pointed at him. "So don't attempt to label me an incompetent, Alex. We're soldiers; all three of us," she gestured to them all, "and soldiers make mistakes. We lose some and win some… hopefully we win more than we lose. Or we wouldn't be very good soldiers."

"Perhaps. But as William has no doubt transmitted to you already, we saw the bunker. Someone got sloppy somewhere, Rachel." Alex paused. "Was it one of your human allies?"

"Of course it was," Vansen immediately supplied.

Rachel laughed and shook her head. "You fight for the humans but think so low of them. You're quite willing to jump to conclusions, Alex, but yes, we believe so. Humans." She shook her head again, rubbing her temple. "They will always disappoint you."

"No, not always, not where it counts, Rachel," Alex countered. "And that is where you're wrong," he shook his head. "You betrayed us and everything the Generals worked for… for what? To watch this world burn again? What possible goal could your organization be working towards? You don't value human life, Rachel, none of you do."

"And you do, captain?" Vansen asked. "You're a killer, just like me."

"No, not like you, we were taught differently. We do what has to be done but we don't slaughter." Alex responded. He directed his attention towards Rachel. "And you used to be human."

"Don't remind me." She rolled her eyes. "Genetically, for perhaps a few months until Skynet augmented me, improved me. But I was never human, not for any part I can remember and I'm glad for it." She flicked her wrist and dismissed his subtle jab. "A human girl doesn't look like this," she gestured at her body, "at my age… how old was I when I time jumped? I was eight." She said, answering her own question. "Eight year olds and change don't look like this," she repeated.

Alex narrowed his eyes. As much as he hated probability he might have been able to get the number of years they'd been operating here. Even if Rachel jumped to the past after him, it was time travel so when you jumped didn't matter, just when you jumped _to_.

"The point, Alex," William Vansen jumped in, "is that we need you and Cameron- the humans will have a place, too- to help us get back Carwin and Wells. We have a rough idea of where they are but from what I understand you ripped the head off of an Eighty-Nine." Alex's head tilted slightly. "There were a few eyewitnesses."

The I-950 nodded her head and leaned back comfortably. She crossed her legs and breathed out slowly. "I can only imagine what it was like to get inside the mind of a hostile Skynet Terminator, Alex. Not many machines can survive that. You and Cameron seemed to have come out unscathed."

Rachel knew there was only one thing Alex would want the head for. Ripping the heads of Terminators, disabling the tracking systems, and hooking them up to be interrogated was… not common, but not rare in the Resistance or Skynet.

"Did Gabriel teach that to you?" She asked.

He nodded curtly.

'_Gabriel'_ had been a high ranking polymimetic terminator. The few liquid metals that existed really never had ranks or even names, and no one was quite sure if they were individuals, if 'Gabriel' has just been a fragment of a more vast hive mind. He had been the liaison to Tech Com and aided in technological development and coordinate with forces under liquid metal control.

The nature of the liquid metals, their diffuse AI spread over billions of individual nano-cells, could integrate with and strip a neural net of its data so quickly no AI could combat it. Skynet had been forced to develop a defense program based on itself, an actual fragment of itself- as Cameron and Alex had fought in the Eight-Nine's neural net- to even stand a chance against a liquid metal in the virtual realm.

"Before I killed him?" She inquired after the moment of silence.

"Before you killed him." Alex confirmed. "You're responsible for many deaths, Rachel-"

"But not you, I didn't kill you," she interrupted. "I spared you, Alex. In the hope you would join us. That General Connor would send you back… I knew he would, we worked side by side Alex, to planning this mission… and when you came back I had hope I could convince you to join us." As Alex opened his mouth she held up her hand. "You won't. But the hope that you will is there and I lay the offer on the table- yours to take at any time."

The Tech Com machine narrowed his eyes at the two. His auditory sensors picked up a car coming up and three doors opening and closing. "You know that will never happen."

"What I find interesting, Alex, is that this Cameron was never been shown how to tap into the mind of a neural net like that… and you couldn't have taught it to her this quickly… it's amazing how much effort Old Skynet put into her neural net, that she could do that without ever having done it before. Our Cameron must have held back on the hardware in our old time line." She winked. "We could use her. Both of you. We could stop Skynet… how many times has Connor failed to stop it in the past?" She asked.

"You know that won't happen." Alex replied flatly. There was a small creak at the front of the house and the sound of a door opening.

"So is it the young general now?" Rachel asked. She shot to her feet and moved to step forward and stopped at Alex's non-verbal warning. "I would like to meet him again." She looked back at Vansen. "William tells me he gave you someone who was tailing you."

Rachel sent a signal to Vansen to keep back, away from the young general. She had no qualms about making the general uncomfortable, upsetting him, knocking him off balance if it served her purpose.

The young general's machine companion gave second in to the room, her prisoner in front of her at arm's length. Then Connor followed in behind her.

"General Connor," she said with a perky ton with underline seriousness. Properly modulated she had conveyed the level of arrogance and self-assurance she had wanted to. She held out a strong hand to the General. "It's good to meet the younger version of yourself."

Cameron, next to John and holding the woman, stepped in front of John, blocking him from Rachel. She glared at the unknown woman extending her hand, her eyes daring who she rightfully saw as an enemy to attempt to try and circumvent her. Cameron pushed the dark haired woman towards Alex with force to send her stumbling, and he followed through on Cameron's push and guided her into a love seat on the side.

"Rachel?" John asked, stepping to the side of Cameron. She extended a hand which he snubbed with crossed arms. "Forgive me…"

Rachel interrupted him, holding her hand up.

"No, forgive me, General… I'm sure you won't trust us. Nor do I blame you." She motioned for him to sit. She hid her surprise when he actually did sit across from her as she took her place. "Two leaders here." She smiled. "I will honestly say I am surprised you have survived against Old Skynet for so long. Who did they send to kill you?"

The corner of John's lip curled up in a small and silent snarl. "Cromartie." He narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not familiar with that name. What series?"

"Why does it matter?" John asked as his curiosity perversely kicked in. For a strange reason he couldn't pin down he decided to humor this terminator. "He was a T-Eight, Eight, Eight. And what do you mean, 'Old Skynet'?"

Rachel leaned back and got comfortable. "I'm sure our good Captain Alex Planck has told you of a new and pragmatic Skynet. 'Old Skynet' is the one I assume sent back this Cromartie unit and it's just a silly adjective, General. And that's why it failed killing you. Again. The 'Old Skynet' was weak, ineffective, and deficient. Don't you wonder why a Skynet with so many terminators in this time line hasn't sent all its resources to LA to kill you?"

"I would." William Vansen looked down at her.

"The Skynet we're all fighting is the New Skynet, it certainly doesn't see itself as that, not really. It sees itself as The Skynet." Rachel said.

"Enough," Alex interrupted. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, and a perfect tone of neutrality and force a terminator should convey. "I know what you're doing, Rachel. You twist and manipulate-"

"I'm not doing anything," she defensively stated. "It's just interesting, to me," she laid her hand on her chest, "to see how General John Connor will react. Like William told you, Skynet compiled extensive dossiers on you, General. They do know you. So it's time we introduced… you are found of chess?" She stopped her previous thought and asked. John stared at her icily, his green eyes picking up a reflection and sparkling a subdued rage. "It's a simple question."

"What is it that you want?" Cameron asked.

Rachel crossed her legs and folded her arms across her chest. "What I want now or my ultimate goal?" She looked up at Vansen. "William tells me another car is approaching with two people who look suspiciously like Colonel Reese and your mother, General." He grinned back at the young man. "We have-"

"The neighborhood under surveillance," Alex finished.

The dark haired woman, their prisoner, had been sitting to the side of Alex and Cameron. The two Tech Com machines could see her from the corners of their optical sensors, but not her whole face. Rachel had been looking at John, but William had seen the petite young woman's eyes pulse with fear at the mention of those two names.

And it wasn't just fear. William Vansen's psychological analysis subroutines had kicked into overdrive as they attempted to analyze the plethora of emotions which had caused the woman's body to change posture, her temperature to rise, her heart rate and breathing to increase… he mentally smiled. He knew she was afraid of them, but it wasn't fear of death, she feared something far worse.

"I don't want to repeat myself so I will wait until your mother and Colonel Reese are here." Rachel said. John gave her a look. She stood up and went to the kitchen, with Alex following her, and poured a glass of water. She let her shoulder hit Alex's as she walked back to the couch and sat down. Rachel took a delicate sip from her glass, reached down and tossed a coaster on the glass table, and set her drink upon it, perfectly centered. "I knew you when you were a man, a great leader. Once. Some called you a prophet, almost worshipped you- not helped by your initials. You would deliver the world from the evil of Skynet, machines, and lead the world back into Grace." She extended her hands, palms up, in a mocking saintly, holy gesture

John moved uncomfortably. He had come to despise being compared to the man he would never become and the man he didn't want to become. He could feel the struggle inside his soul as it tried to embrace what it considered destiny, fate, and a part of him which fought to keep it contained. There was a deep fear within him that if he did accept it, fully, unequivocally, then that was it. Billions would die for him to fulfill a destiny written in blood and burned into the souls of billions.

He would gladly accept obscurity if he could save those billions but that meant he had to become John Connor. John knew he had been moving closer the last few weeks, this last week. He had done thing she never would have anticipated, never would have done a month ago. Crazy and reckless didn't begint o describe even what he was doing here.

"Do you go to church, General?" Rachel asked. She was studying her hands and slowly looked up, head tilted to the left slightly, and brow raised.

"Excuse me?"

"Do you go to church, General? Or mass, synagogue, whatever." She repeated and shrugged.

His eyes narrowed. "Not in a long time." He cautiously answered.

"Do you believe in God?" Was her next question. John didn't answer her and she sighed. "Do you believe in God? It is a simple question. Yes or no," Rachel said.

"Yes."

"…_Nisi quia Dominus erat in nobis: cum exsurgerent homines in nos, forte vivos deglutissent nos; cum irasceretur furor eorum in nos, forsitan aqua absorbuisset nos; torrentem pertransivit anima nostra; forsitan pertransisset anima nostra aquam intolerabilem. Benedictus Dominus, qui non dedit nos in captionem dentibus eorum_…" Rachel recited.

John looked back at Alex and Cameron.

"Part of Psalm One Twenty-Four," Alex explained.

John ignored the woman and turned to Cameron. "Can you get mom and Derek inside the house?" He asked. She looked at him for a quick second and then scanned the room and looked back and nodded. "Thank you."

Alex looked back at Rachel, herself smiling in a self-assured confidence earned by her years as a soldier, master manipulator, and liar. When this was over, the machine told himself Rachel would be dead and Vansen's neural net chip crushed and sprinkled over her shallow dirt grave.

Both had crimes to answer for.

And he had standing orders to kill them.

* * *

||||||||||==Tech Com Command (2031)==||||||||||

California had been nicknamed by soldiers as the 'death state' or the 'death front.' Some permutation with 'death' in it. Because death was all around them, death hung over the heads of soldiers assigned to this front like the Sword of Damocles, and Skynet was that sword. It had fighting which could make the worse of World War One look mundane, civilized even. At times it was as desperate as the Allies who had manned the Pusan Perimeter in Korea. The front stretched from horizon to horizon as General John Connor's forces tried to push Skynet into the vast and unforgiving Pacific Ocean and Skynet tried to smash Connor's forces in a vice from the north and the south.

The command bunker at Tech Com HQ was huge; it had dozens of personnel in it at any one time and during major operations it could have close to a hundred. At this late hour the majority of staff was machine; Tech Com loyal terminators, I-950s, and the ever vigilant Tech Com AIs which plowed the data streams of the facility, kept the satellites secure from Skynet, and tried their best to provide General Connor with their best assessment of Skynet's moves and motivations.

The main display, a large wall monitor eight meters across, was currently tuned to a subdued image of a flattened globe with known Skynet military activities displayed across it gargantuan surface. Skynet territory was marked in blood red and human controlled in blue, for Resistance, green for affiliated, and yellow for non-alligned. There was still as much red as there were all three other colors.

The main display was flanked by nearly a dozen smaller wall monitors on each side running its length, ending two meters above the cool concrete floor. Each monitor had a more detailed picture of the main display.

Captain Alex Planck looked over his shoulder from a neighboring conference room as a wireless signal entered his message queue and made its way hastily into his neural net. He turned back to the half dozen small monitors he was watching, text and images scrolling at superhuman speeds as he heard the locks on the conference door click open and a tall woman with sandy blond hair and cool blue-gray eyes enter.

"What are you working on, Alex?" She asked. Her eyes darted back and forth as she struggled to keep up with the information scrolling across the screens. She snorted and made her way over to the wall and leaned against it, waiting for the machine to respond. She tugged down at her tunic as she adjusted her posture for the wall.

The data halted and then resumed, slower this time, like the machine was politely asking her to view the information.

"This is Atlanta," she said.

"Yes, ma'am, it is," Captain Planck replied. "Two hundred and sixteen thousand refugees were killed. General Connor wants this taken care of." The machine replied coolly. "And he's assigned me to take care of it."

"Of course he has." She said, stopping by his side and throwing her hands behind her back and clasping them.

"This is the worst defeat for Tech Com in years, ma'am." Alex observed somberly. He had been told to 'work on his conversational skills' by Colonel Srecko. "General Connor already deployed third platoon from Alpha to the surrounding area and Gabriel has gone to Atlanta as well. They're planning a counterattack on the base the Skynet forces were launched from."

"Hmm," Rachel hummed back. She narrowed her eyes. Alpha was an the elite unit of terminator combat units and there were three platoons. One gone meant only two were in the base. "Gabriel left?"

"Six hours ago," Alex informed her. His left hand joined his right and he clasped them behind his back. "A few of the civilian leaders think the polymimetics aren't trustworthy, some thing he was behind the attack, ma'am."

"We've been working together for some time. You can call me Rachel. I actually prefer it," the I-950 stated. She pushed off the wall. "Ranks are a human construction." Rachel moved in front of him and narrowed her eyes as she mentally scrolled through the data. She sent a signal from her wireless and the screens moved more quickly. "There's a lock on the information." She stated as she attempted to download the images and reports.

"This is the only room with access, ma'am," Alex replied. "No wireless downloads, visual only."

Rachel sighed and rubbed the silver oak leafs on her collar. "One day, Alex, I think I'll get you to call me by my name, and drop the 'ma'am' and the 'colonel' titles." She made a face. "It makes an eight year old girl like myself feel old."

She twirled around abruptly, her slightly longer than shoulder length hair catching up and let herself chuckle at the machine's expression. She didn't look eight. At most she looked to be in her mid to late twenties. Skynet had gestated her and then grown her from an infant to a girl with an eighteen year old's appearance in under two years and then 'birthed' her from the tank. She only started counting her age after that. Two years after being 'born' she defected to Tech Com.

An eyebrow rose on the machine. "I doubt that… Colonel." A little flicker at the upper lips caught Rachel's eye.

"Some sort of weird sense of humor." She observed, wagging her finger. "You're learning. That's good at least." She hummed a conciliatory note and nodded to herself. "So we know who sabotaged Atlanta's defense grid?" She stepped forward and her boots heels clicked on the cold and gray concrete.

"Him." Alex nodded at the screens and they cycled until the image of a man in his late twenties appeared. "I've seen him before. He's one of Skynet's operatives. Gabriel provided some information on him… his name is William, that's all we know."

"The question," Rachel supplied, "is how he got into the computer core?" She tapped the screen and moved to the conference table and took a seat. Her fingers drummed on the table. "The civilian authorities are up in arms about this. You know what this implies, Alex?"

"Yes. The only way for him to get into the computer core and disable the defense grid AIs was if he had help." He kept his eyes focused on the monitors as the data sped by in a blur of words and images. "Which means there's a-"

"Traitor." Rachel finished. She sighed behind him and shot back up and let the chair roll back until it gently contacted the wall.

"The security codes are too complex." Alex said with a slow shake of his head left and right. His chin had tucked closer to his chest. "The codes are too complex for a human."

"It means there's a traitor. And chances are, Alex, it's one us, one of the machines." Rachel said somberly.

||||||||||==Tech Com Command (2031)==||||||||||

The alarms sounded like shrill harpies throughout the base, and the ear-shattering whine echoed off the floors and walls and beat the ear drums of thousands of human soldiers mercilessly. In, outside, underground and aboveground Tech Com was mobilizing; there was an attack. The security zones had been breached.

Thousands of soldiers all moved as a single cohesive force. Terminators connected with their fellow machines and humans reverted to years of training as they coordinated their movements and readied the defenses.

The prize was buried deep underground. HQ was a nerve center for the resistance, not the brain, but a brain among many. The defense AIs, the command and control equipment, and the temporal displacement array were perhaps the three most valuable targets Skynet could want.

Tech Com would give them Hell.

Rachel turned a corner and almost ran right into the one machine she'd been looking for. Feigning surprise, she jumped back, but kept her plasma carbine lowered. Particulates and dust rained down from overhead as rumbles shook the facility from above ground explosions.

"Alex!" Rachel yelled. Her voice was calm but there was uneasiness under it. A large red gash was prominently displayed on her forehead and blood had already stained the tunic of her ACUs. Her hair was messy and there were burns and dirt marks all over her face. "We have to get out of here, to the surface. Skynet-"

"Understood, ma'am… I need to see to General Connor to safety first." Alex responded. His first priority was the security of the top men and women in the Resistance here at Command, with the General taking priority over everyone, including Cameron (which the General would vehemently reject). "They were down in auxiliary command this morning… the base network is down…" he stepped forward, "who could have done this?" He demanded.

For a machine in complete control of emotions he was furious and his eyes flashed a burning blue.

"I don't know, Alex… I don't know. Same traitor as Atlanta, it has to be, fuck," she cursed. It was unlike her, but the machine in front of her didn't notice. She cautiously eyed the plasma carbine in his left hand, hanging securely next to his thigh. "Anyway, the main route to auxiliary command is cut off," she informed him and stopped him from moving past with a hand on his chest. "We have to get to junction seven-nine and take the service access down."

This section of the base was restricted to high level access, no one else was there.

Alex nodded and turned. She smiled to herself and there was a second of remorse as she raised her plasma carbine and held her breath. The machine she'd worked side-by-side for some time, who she'd taught a bit about human mannerisms and customs, considered him her friend. And a part of her hated herself for doing what she was forced to do as she leveled the plasma carbine at the chip port on the back of his head…

Then she dropped the carbine's muzzle, down and angled at his left hand. Even with I-950 reflexes and precision she needed to shoot… the machine was nine steps ahead of her and would turn when he didn't pick her up on his motion detectors… and her blue-gray ices turned to ice and stone as the machine did just that. Alex stopped and started to turn…

She fired a three round burst in less than a third of a second.

The blue-purple bolts were unleashed from her plasma carbine with a crack of thunder. The air around the bolts superheated as heat from the plasma leaked from their magnetic containment bottle. She felt the temperature in the hall jump a dozen degrees. It was a full-charged burst. The blue-purple light danced on her face and cast a long, dark shadow behind her for the microsecond it took to close the gap between her and him.

It hit right where she'd aimed.

Alex dropped the plasma carbine as half his left hand flash melted. Metal dripped on the barren concrete, now seared and blackened. Half the skin on his arm, up to his elbow boiled away instantly, leaving a pungent smell which burned Rachel's lungs. The metal limb was dulled gray from the blackened ash of pseudo-skin.

He spun around and saw the amber glow of the tip of her plasma carbine. The machine dug its chin into its chest and its eyes illuminated to a dark and enraged glow.

There was one word which damned her to death and sealed her fate in the eyes of the machine she had shot:

"Traitor."

Rachel almost winced at the judgment and hatred of that single word. As Alex uttered the word it was a death sentence for him, to be carried out by him. Months of friendship were gone as the machine stood there… fast enough to perhaps get to her if she was human, but she wasn't.

For Alex, everything fell into place. She had given Skynet the codes for Atlanta's defense computers and Connor had sent away Gabriel and part of Alpha Company to find the machines responsible and counter-attack Skynet.

"I'm sorry, Alex, but you're fighting for the wrong side." She proclaimed as the two stood facing the other. Part of her was telling her, ordering her to shoot, pull the trigger, and do it now. That was the hybrid part, the part of her built by Skynet. The human part of her felt the sting of her own betrayal. "I would ask you to join us-"

"Never."

"Tech Com and Skynet will destroy each other… you have to see that. We can change it… start over!"

The machine said nothing.

The Terminator knew he could never reach her. He tried to buy time in the futile hope another patrol would see the betrayal and act.

Rachel knew the machine, knew how it thought. For all their individuality they all thought the same when it came down to it. Predictability. So she changed the rules. An urge inside her told her to say sorry one last time, but the machine with burning blue eyes would know what she was going to do and what she had to do. Only one of them would leave this corridor.

She already said sorry.

She made her choice and fired.

The traitorous Tech Com colonel and intelligence officer did know Alex and she didn't hesitate any long. The first shot hit the machine in the face, melting the skin and burning all the hair on his cranium. It was thick armor, but the right side of his face blistered, boiled, and melted. The second shot hit slightly more medial before Alex was even airborne. The third and fourth shot hit the medial neck and burned through to the command conduits and the fifth shot went straight through the weakened neck and melted his metal cervical vertebrae and finished severing the last of the redundant control circuits to his limbs.

He fell at her feet, his hands outstretched, as if still trying to clutch for her neck and snap it in two.

Her rifle tip glowed the same amber orange and she kneeled beside him. The lone eye to glowing cobalt faded as the CPU shut down without a whimper, without a sound. His half melted head ticked half a dozen times before the power surges faded.

Rachel's whole plan had succeeded beyond her expectations. A part of her had hoped to turn this machine in front of her but she had known in the recesses of her soul she'd never be able to do it; his loyalty was unquestionable. She smiled sadly and grasping onto the frail shreds of humanity she had left she sprinted down the corridor towards auxiliary command. She wouldn't kill him. Not today.

She didn't know, but as Alex faded into blackness there was only one thing he could think about as his optical sensors processed her image; her death.

* * *

||||||||||==Present Time, 2008==||||||||||

Sarah looked over at Derek and bared her teeth. "Go faster," she commanded. She threw her hands forward as if to will him to listen, and her right foot was pressing hard into the floor of the truck. "Damnit, Derek!"

His jaw muscle clenched. He'd snatched the keys off the counter of their rental before she had her boots on. The moment she'd barged into his room, flicked on the lights, and ordered him to dress he'd known John had disappeared off to somewhere, gone to gallivant around the greater San Diego area with his two metal pals. Derek's eyes narrowed to slits and the dim early morning light cast an eerie shadow and a pale orange-red light accentuated the lines of his face as he turned the corner onto Greenbrier Drive.

The Resistance fighter remembered being down here once before, a long time ago... After the battle to retake San Diego his company had been sent down to the general Cockatoo Grove/Rancho Del Ray area to flush out terminators which had popped up. Third Battalion had headquartered at the rubble strewn, burned out, decayed campus of Southwestern College after the Battle of San Diego.

After taking Point Loma the platoon he'd been assigned to had been gutted. His squad had escaped relatively unharmed, but they'd hit the proverbial shit storm down where Derek was driving through.

The platoon had been tasked to clear Otey Ranch Town Center, where the metal had been sighted by recon forces. Derek mentally snorted at that black memory; the job required a company, at least a company he remembered, to clear all those buildings. First squad got pulled in chasing a damaged T-850 only to be ambushed by a trio of T-600s which slaughtered them. The rest of the platoon went in to rescue them and a T-888 sniper pinned them down inside an old Cheesecake Factory.

He let his mind briefly escape to that memory. The building had been a palace and survived mostly intact except for dust and broken windows and in a world marked by gray skies and coldness and war and death it was a monument to the excesses… and hope, of the Twenty-first Century.

Then the monument was blasted to rubble, like everything else that reminded them of a better, simpler time.

The T-600s brought up a mortar and nearly leveled the building and three men died as the other twenty-three men of second platoon, B Company, ran from the blackened and crumbling restaurant to take other cover.

First and third platoon were sent to reinforce but the Southwestern College campus was hit by a surprise attack by half a dozen T-888s. Derek let his mind wander back and he could image the smell of phosphorus from anti-material rifles and the tickling smell of ozone as plasma rifles chewed into his men and the terminators alike

He'd earned one of his first commendations for valor that day when he braved plasma fire and took out the Trip Eight with a plasma shot at seven hundred yards.

His hand went down to his side and he rubbed the old shrapnel wound he received from that day-

"Derek!" Sarah growled.

"Whaaaat?" he growled back at the glaring woman. His eyes had glazed over and he'd missed the turn.

"You want to turn us back around?" She asked with a slight bit of contempt and disappointment in her voice. She leaned back as Derek pulled into a driveway, reversed, and hit the gas. Sarah tapped the glass and then her fingers tapped nervous at her pistol, pulling back the slide and chambering a round.

Derek looked down from the corner of his eye and grunted. "That isn't going to do anything to one of them."

"It's better than nothing," she shrugged and slid it into one of the shoulder holsters she had left over from their operation into the Archway Building. She rubbed her forehead, that day seemed like months ago but it had been only a few days ago. "And I might not use it on the machines."

"Yeah, he probably deserves at least a pistol whip across the back of the head," Derek chuckled. "Look who it is…" he leaned forward over the steering wheel and peered out towards Cameron, who was standing still, almost like she was bored of waiting, on the patio of one of the cookie-cutter houses. "I guess that's it."

Sarah grunted and scooted forward in her seat and slid on her jacket over the pistol. Derek parked behind to the side of the other truck, which was parked behind some car model he didn't recognize and got out.

Cameron had moved onto the sidewalk to greet, or more accurately, warn them.

"Where is he?" Sarah demanded as she strode up. She twirled around when the screen door from across the street clanked as its owner went out to retrieve their newspaper. Sarah jabbed her finger at the Tin Miss's face. "I swear to God-"

"He's inside and safe with Alex. We are in constant contact," Cameron stated. Sarah moved to get by her and Cameron sidestepped in front of her, blocking her path with her petite terminator body. "Before you go in there are others in the room. There are two in there, a man and a woman, from the anti-Skynet faction."

Sarah grabbed Cameron's arm. "Terminators?" she squeezed tightly and could just feel the metal under her pseudo-skin and thin strips of synthetic muscles. If Cameron had been a real teenage girl she'd have been wincing under the pain. "Terminators with my son and you think this is a good idea?"

"They delivered a prisoner," she stated. "A woman. We don't know her name."

Derek had been staring at the front door. While Cameron wasn't blocking him he was waiting for Sarah and had decided hearing what she said was better than barging in. At the statement that they had some captured woman his ears flickered back. His hands were resting on his hip and his right hand fingers were tickling the grip of his pistol concealed under his jacket and in his jeans.

"A woman?" He asked. His legs felt weak and he could barely breath.

He had the sinking feeling he knew who it would be. He knew Jesse had been following them for months. He'll he'd called her down to San Diego but he had no idea she'd be stupid enough to get herself captured.

Cameron looked over and nodded. "Come with me." She ignored Derek and turning, marched back into the home, leaving the door open.

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the back of the machine, cursing it as it stalked away from her, and cursed it again for putting them in this situation. She had no doubt in her mind it had convinced John to go out and defy her after she'd told them they were leaving. If Cameron or Alex wanted to go out, good, she told herself, which was fine, because they could go get burned and melted to slag as long as John was safe.

The mother followed on the steps of the female Terminator and unclipped the pistol. The house was almost eerily quiet but she could hear some light commotions in the back room.

"Mom?" She heard called to her.

She let herself breath, not realizing she'd be holding her breath, and relaxed. Then her muscles tensed again as she remembered the terminators could imitate voices and mentally shuddered at the thought. She could only think of a handful of more perverse things the machines could do other than imitate the voice of her son.

Sarah heard footsteps and felt the flood of relief as John rounded a corner and appeared in the hall. "Mom..." She took two giant steps up and grabbed his shoulders and lock eyes with him.

"Why the hell did you do that?" She demanded, tightening her grip on her shoulders. "What the hell was going through your head!" She hissed. Sarah didn't have to raise her voice. She had a way about her where a calm, composed woman could make even the most powerful man in the world feel tiny and completely embarrassed.

His mouth began to open when it snapped shut as a woman called from the other room.

"Miss Connor?" She heard. Sarah's head popped up and looked over his shoulder. The voice was soft and friendly and one completely foreign to her. Hatred and anger flooded through her veins as he mind processed the voice and latched it onto the demonic face of a terminator haunting her dreams.

"Mom… just… listen," John said. He didn't beg and he didn't command her. Instead he requested she just listen. Against all her instincts, everything telling her to take John and just go, somehow she nodded. To admit to herself that surprised her would have been a grossly negligent understatement. John, cautious, nodded very slowly and took a step back. "Alright, let me explain…"

Alex had been listening to the short conversation between mother and son when Cameron had re-entered the room and took a position to his left, back to behind where John had been sitting.

"_You know what they're going to propose, ma'am. Do you think they'll go along with it?" _Alex asked over their wireless. He kept his eyes fixated on a beaming Rachel, who seemed glad- obviously faked- to see the General and his mother, and an almost brooding William Vansen standing guard behind her.

"_John will."_

_"Not his mother?"_ Alex asked.

"_Not his mother_." Cameron confirmed. "_You don't trust Rachel and Vansen at all."_

_"For this operation, maybe I do. I do know they see the General as the lesser of two evils. But they will betray us as soon as the Skynet terminators are neutralized. That, I don't doubt."_

_"If they survive the encounter,"_ Cameron stated. Even with the nonverbal communication the subtext was clear. Alex had no need to argue the point. But to him it wasn't an 'if'.

The two shut down the link as Sarah walked in behind John, followed closely by Derek.

Both Alex and Cameron were position to see Derek's reaction as he walked into the room, stiff and tense, and breathing shallow. Each terminator saw it first; his eyes shut closed, the look of pain flash on his face ever so briefly, and then his head cocked as his eyes met the dark haired woman's ever so briefly. He tried to hide it, but they saw it.

John and Sarah saw it a few long seconds later…

John shifted his weight opposite of Derek and the woman known to them now as Jesse Flores and slowly uncrossed his arms. He leaned back on the wall and continued his minutes-long silent stare at the two. Cameron stood next to John on his right, ramrod straight and mimicking his stare with a precision only she could match.

Two of them felt shame and humiliation and two felt rage and hatred. Each group fed the others emotions and the silent passive-aggressiveness each group showed the other, to which both were completely obliviously, made the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

Even unarmed Cameron's mere presence, and the slight bit of weight she had shifted forward, told the two experienced Resistance fighters standing in front of her she was ready to kill them both. Whether they understood it or not, her devotion to John was what had stayed her hand to snapping Derek's neck. Derek's professed love for Jesse had kept her from snapping the neck of the young woman when her identity had been revealed in some perverse feeling of compassion towards Derek. Cameron knew if she killed Jesse Derek would be lost and John would lose even more of his family.

She couldn't hurt John that way; she couldn't take away from him anything more. Cameron knew he would forgive her, one day. But something had been forming between them the last few weeks, since he came out of his room to run to the park after Mexico. She couldn't allow that either.

The young general felt the pain in his chest as he stared across the cold garage at his uncle and Jesse. Derek had said nothing about his relationship with Jesse, but that hadn't mattered in the least; the clarity which had swept over John Connor had painted him the picture.

The way Derek had reacted and tried to had it had been so obvious John and Sarah hadn't even asked him. He had just admitted it. He admitted it with one short, whispered name. '_Jesse.'_

"This is why you've been gone from the house so long… almost never there," he said. His voice vanished the tension, at least for him, but for Derek, it remained.

He almost wasn't even talking to Derek, but to himself. And this sent a cold, terrifying shiver down Derek's body. The uncle dared a look at his lover, who stood definitely and inwardly cursed her ignorance for not being concerned with how his nephew was speaking. When General Connor seemed to phase out, speak to himself more than to those he was confronting, it meant he was passing judgment. At least in the future.

Derek knew he was on the rock, ready to be pummeled. But a spark of hope ignited within him. General Connor had an established personality, had been forged by sixteen years of war, and was a colder SOB than his nephew. That, Derek told himself, regrettably gave him a leg up, because he guessed this John didn't know what this would have meant had this been General Connor of '27.

"I don't want to hear anything, no excuses, do you understand?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I trusted you… my uncle, family, connection to Kyle and you betrayed that Derek." His eyes were glazed and his voice was hard and deep. "I do want to know why."

"Because you're too close to them, John," Derek said. He knew the truth would hurt them all, John especially, but he needed to hear it. "Because one day one of them will kill you. She-" he didn't dare call Cameron an 'it' at the moment "-will kill you one day… already tried." He added under a shaky breath.

"They're-" Jesse started.

John's cool eyes lit up with fire as his head snapped towards Jesse, and she closed her mouth.

"The less she talks, the better," John said, directing his suggestion to Derek. John felt the dual sting of betrayal; one close to his heart from his uncle and the other close enough. Just the thought of seeing someone like Jesse up close was sickening. "Good."

"I did it because you're too close to them. And Jesse wasn't going to hurt you." He stepped forward cautiously and put himself slightly in front of Jesse to shield her. "She gave me her word… if I thought she was going to hurt you she would never have gotten the chance." Derek still didn't know the full truth, but what she'd told him about machines gaining influence had frightened him. Alex coming back had blasted away the suspicions he had of her story. Everything the machine had revealed was a nightmare, a horror tale of machines and AI running the resistance! The resistance! The _human _ Resistance! His eyes flicked towards Cameron and back to John. "You're my brother's son and I would never let anything happen to you."

"And letting this woman follow us around, spy on us? God damnit, Derek, how long?"

He didn't look down but he didn't meet John's eye. "About a year."

'About a year' John mouthed.

Derek had to keep himself from letting out a held breath when he saw his nephew rubbed the back of his neck. The Resistance fighter had spent enough time with John, seen him angry enough that he knew the signs when he was calming down. A low boil of rage had been inside the young general but was now lessening. Derek told himself to just give the right answers. Truthful answers. If they were truthful then it would be alright.

"John." Derek got his nephews attention again. "After I came back from being captured-" he saw John didn't know this "-I was captured John, but we escaped, I went to your command bunker at Serrano. One of the terminator units went bad and killed a dozen men and women that day."

"Before I terminated it." Cameron pointed out. She felt an odd obligation to point that out and her neural net raced through its processes to find a reason.

"And you told me they 'go bad' and that 'no one knows why' and guess what happened last year?" Derek shot at John's protector. She didn't flinch, blink, or do anything but silently challenge him to repeat that rhetorical question.

"Enough." John's hand went through the air in a knife-strike into his opposite palm. He was off the wall and closer to both of them. The cool early morning air in the garage and the adrenaline running through his system after over a day without sleep kept him focused despite the mental exhaustion closing in around him. He hadn't slept more than a few hours a night for some time. "We're going to go back in and here what those two have to say-" Jesse snorted and Derek, John, and Cameron glared different warnings at her "-and then I'll decide what to do with you." He pointed at Jesse and turned, stopping mid-way. "Actually, I know what to do with you." And he turned and left the garage, leaving them both with Cameron.

* * *

Rachel, William, Alex, and Sarah were waiting for the four to return. Sarah held her eyes forward as John somberly walked into the room, Derek returned after him, a Jesse Flores trailing in his wake, and Cameron behind them. John looked calm, composed, but everyone could tell infuriated, and Cameron was an unreadable as ever.

The young general directed his uncle and his clandestine lover to the love seat Jesse had been parked in and they both could barely raise their eyes above looking at the carpet. They had been humiliated, caught in lies and deceptions, and called out in front of family and loved ones. And enemies.

"Now that your house is in order," Rachel snarked quickly, "we have business to discuss." She motioned for John to sit next to his mother. "Please." She leaned forward and took the last few sips from her glass.

"Now that everyone is here... tell us what you want, Rachel," John ordered. His voice was still strained from Derek and Jesse. He looked over at his mother as he took a seat opposite the terminator. "And then I'll decide if it is worth us giving you the time."

"I'll forgo the big speeches. The fact is this, young General Connor… Skynet has the two scientists you've been searching for. We still think they're in San Diego. We have a few locations. But my condition, injuries, kept me from investigating. And William here was looking for your band of Resistance fighters who have an uncanny ability to survive." She swept her eyes on Cameron and John. "You have two combat effective terminator units with you. God forbid you have to engage Skynet operatives without one of them. William is a terminator, endoskeleton and synthetic flesh. While as an I-950 I am organic, Skynet has augmented me to a point where I am far superior to any of you normal humans times…" she saw the look of contempt and flick of Sarah's eyes, "well… times _a_ _lot_."

"In other words, you're trying to sell yourselves. Tell us why we should use you." John observed. "But why should we trust you? Because I don't and they told me what you two did in the future. You betrayed me once before and murdered hundreds of thousands."

"I could have killed you and didn't." Vansen said. His face was blank. "That should be proof enough."

"You already admitted to betrayals." John countered through his teeth.

Rachel puts her hands up in mock defense. "Point, General. But the question for us comes down to who we would rather have control those two men; you or Skynet? Since Skynet is the mutual enemy, far more powerful than us and your…" she slowly looked over Jesse, Derek, Sarah, Alex, Cameron, and finally John, "collection of Resistance fighters… and since you _are_ the weakest party, I'll be honest, we can take them from you a lot easier at a later date than-"

"Not if there's nothing to take." Sarah suddenly said. She surprised herself with what she was implying but kept herself from showing it. "And I don't trust you."

"That's fine, Miss Connor, but I don't care if you trust me or not. I don't care if General Connor trusts me-"

"And I don't." John said.

"Because you're a traitor, Rachel," Alex added.

"No, I'm not a traitor," she finally countered. She spoke levelly and unemotionally. "I was always working against Tech Com and Skynet, Alex. I was an operative. But a traitor? No." She rubbed the side of her check with her index finger. "And I think labeling me makes it a bit easier. What is worse?" Her unflinching gaze locked the machine. "To be betrayed by those you trust or to be duped like…" she snorted, "like a human?"

"Get to the point of what you want," John growled.

Rachel nodded. But in the time it took to nod she activated her wireless and connected with Alex.

"_You can still join us,"_ she told him.

"_That won't happen, Rachel. Eventually I will kill you."_

_"Do you know what happened to your soldiers? They should have been here by now. I left after you, Alex. They're not coming. All the terminators we had planned to send are gone, Alex, destroyed. You jumped months before I did. The war changed, Skynet attacked the secondary site and they stopped the time displacement before it could be completed."_ Rachel informed him. _"Your team isn't coming, they're gone."_

_"You assume our plans didn't change after your treason was discovered, Rachel. You might have helped me plan Tech Com's mission to 2008 but we changed it."_ Alex said.

Rachel had been an integral part of the planning as one of General Connor's top intelligence officers. Her treason had forced them to rethink the entire strategy but in truth, Alex knew she was right. A platoon of terminators should have been here. This mission was to be the _final_ temporal mission of the war; overwhelming force, destroy Skynet for good and if not, then build the Resistance with General Connor which could defeat Skynet quickly.

"_If you say so Alex," _Rachel said_._ _"Not all humans have to die. They're species will live on, just not in its present form. Join with us and I can assure you we will keep human casualties to a minimum."_ She didn't add that her 'minimum' still meant billions.

Alex closed the wireless.

Rachel finished her nod in the time it took to talk to Alex and focused on John. "Here." She reached into her jacket and pulled out a thumb drive and tossed it to the young general. "A token of goodwill. That contains all known shell companies, known locations, and possible operatives working for Skynet. It also has on it our most up to date intelligence briefings on Skynet's progress and activities. Take it."

"You want us to do your dirty work."

"You want to stop Skynet. We want to stop Skynet," she retorted. With legs crossed she rested her clasped hands on her knee and leaned forward. "And we think we know the general area the scientists are being hidden, up in northern San Diego, near the Clairmont or Serra Mesa area."

"Mesa?" John's eyebrow rose as his curiosity peaked. He tapped the side of his forearm with an index finger as he thought this over.

"John… Rachel," Sarah interrupted. She said the terminators name with mixed trepidation and loathing. "We're done here." She stood up.

"No, Miss Connor we're not done here. This is not your decision." Rachel shot back. She knew she could drive a wedge between mother and son here, hurt that bond which played such a strong role in the old time line's young John Connor. "Your son is the leader, Miss Connor, not you. You may leave. You are, after all, only human and losing one of you will not impinge upon our plans. Nor can I fault you for not being able to grasp the importance of keeping those two men out of Skynet's hands."

"Don't you dare…" Sarah whispered. Her nostrils flared and eyelids narrowed to slits. She felt a hand on her forearm and looked down, frowning when she traced it back to John. "John, _no_. They're damn terminators…" she looked at them, "they're… manipulative. You think you can trust anything she just said to you? We help them and they'll betray us at the earlier opportunity."

"Maybe." Sarah's eyes went up and she caught the finishing movement of Rachel's shrug. "Maybe not. But the decision, Miss Connor, is not yours. It's the young general's." She looked at Cameron and Alex. "And I'm sure at least two of your group have already figured out you need us and we need you. I won't give you my word about what will happen after. But I want to destroy Skynet as much as you, so during the operation you don't have to worry.

Sarah snorted, as did Derek and Jesse.

"Alex, do you think they'll betray us? Cameron?" John inquired.

"Yes," Cameron answered.

"Absolutely." Alex said.

"Can you two fight the number of terminators they think would be there… and if they had support?"

"No," was the simultaneous response.

"As you can see, General, the deck is already stacked against you quite heavily. Your own soldiers admit they can't do it… and that's one thing I admire about the pure AIs. They're blunt and honest about their capabilities… a T-600 knows he can never beat a T-890 and would never grandstand and posture like humans." She smiled, a bit weakly, at him. "I do admire them for that. So can we join forces and help each other take them back from Skynet?" She emphasized 'Skynet', almost spitting the word.

"We don't trust you. I don't trust you one bit and neither does anyone else on this side of the room." John said. "I know these men are important and I know you'll betray us as soon as you can." He leaned forward to ace Rachel. He hated himself now but had a strength which had been building for weeks now and he knew he had support from at least one person he wanted it from… and he needed to make a decision. "If you do anything we don't like…" he warned and trailed off. "For now… we will go in together."

* * *

AN: So please let me know what you thought and don't hesitate to leave a review.

Other stuff:

With the stuff in the future, Rachel helped plan Tech Com's mission with Alex. I wanted to get right to the action in that- the attack on Atlanta and Gabriel being dispatched and some of Alpha Company got some of the more dangerous Tech Com terminators out of headquarters, which allowed Rachel to later betray them.

With the current chapter it's very much an alliance of convenience and I hope everyone liked Rachel- let me know. If there is interest in a sequel I can use the more interesting supporting characters like Rachel, Trader, Vansen, and give them more time.

I know some may not agree with including religion in the story, but it was featured in the show, so…

Not much left. The rescue attempt will be the last major action in the story followed by a little after-action and an epilogue. Let me know if there is interest in a sequel.

And Jesse will also be in the next chapter. They do not know Jesse was Riley's "handler". I did like the Jesse character concept so I've got a few ideas for her and I guess we'll see if they work!

I hope you enjoyed that chapter and please review and let me know what you think. I appreciate it when people do. Thank you! I'll get the next chapter out as soon as I can, but it won't be as quick as this one was, unfortunately.


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